Of Shots and Drabbles
by Kuyeng13-The Heart Logos
Summary: Drabble series. Slash. Geil/Delius. They had forever and a day to get things just right. Well, as right as it can be for a possesive, spontaneous dervish and a sarcastic, unlucky ritualist.
1. Bath

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't try to pin anything on me.**

**This disclaimer applies to all of the following drabbles that will ever appear or have appeared in this little series.**

**I switch POV's from third, to first, but I can promise that I will not switch in the middle of a drabble/scene without due warning or cause (I have learned my lesson all you POV switcher haters!)**

**Warnings: Gayness will apply to all drabbles (gayness as in both happy and slash), cursing on both Geil and Delius' behalf, occasional fluff and shamelessness. **

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Bath:

If there was one thing my twin can do right (aside from women, yuck) it was making friends in the right places, buttering them up, and pan frying them until they were just right to sponge off of.

Classic example being this _lovely_, and I do mean _lovely_ bath in the zu Lamig territories. Somewhere along the line Delius E. married Zefi of the zu Lamig Council of Pa-puru, which was under the control of the Countess zu Lamig. Said countess is extremely good to her friends, and by extremely good I do mean _extremely good__**. **_When Geil and I got married I had expected a quick ceremony and then a quicker return to a small little hotel room hovel to be smothered into the ground with various activities of questionable nature by an overenthusiastic dervish.

Instead I got a quick ceremony, a quicker return via teleportation to Echovald forest, and then a nice long honeymoon in one of the personal villas of the Countess' council members.

Note to self: don't kick his ass for all the jokes he made about me finally getting laid.

…

Add to note: don't kick his ass _too_ badly.

Back to the bath, somewhere in the deep, dark, forest of Echovald is a nice stone house with large windows and lavish rooms. In one of said rooms is a nice, large, marble bath, with nice bubbly water.

I sink lower into the stone and warm water, it feels _so_ good, it's like…I can't even describe the total joy it is. I close my eyes and lean my head back, groaning in comfort.

"Don't you look happy in there." I open my eyes and glance at the door, smiling a little.

"I am, care to join me?" Geil smiles a wide smile; he quickly shucks his thin sleeping pants and shirt, exposing bronze skin and stone muscles. The water seems a little bit warmer as he quietly pads towards the bath. He slides into the bath and I scoot over (it's that _wide) _to let him sit on the marble ledge. He groans a little as well, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me towards him. He shudders.

"As nice as this is, I _hate_ this Echovald weather." I curl into his side, sliding my legs half over his lap. He rubs his hands on my thighs. He huffs with a slight pout, "how do you stand it? It's so cold and…still."

I shrug. "Remember, I'm a Ritualist, as soon as I started seeing blue my parents threw me on the quickest ship to Shing Jea. The only times I came back were to meet you," I nudge him with my knee, "and to visit Pins and Delius E on holiday."

"Was it hard getting used to this weather?" He slides into the water a little more.

"At first, but my master worked me hard." Geil's eyes slide over to me, a smirk quirks on the edges of his lips.

"Harder than I work you?" I roll my eyes and nudge him with my knee again. His hands work their way up my thigh, up and down in a slow circuit that got rather close to some…overworked, personal parts.

"Not in the bath." I jerk my legs from under his hands. He raises a brow. "I don't want to get out and run the water again, it's warm, and outside is cold."

He pouts but moves his ministrations to my shins and calves. "I hate the cold. Does it snow here too?"

I shrug.

"Once in a while, usually around Wintersday." I glance to the side and notice a small little array of buttons next to the wide window overlooking the bath. I pull my legs out of Geil's lap and wade over to the little set of buttons. "What do you think these do?"

"I don't know, but I know what _I'd_like to do." He purrs, following me and curling himself around me, leaning his head on mine looking down at the buttons with me. I elbow him, gently because I wouldn't want him to fall and drown or something.

"I told you, not in the bath."

"But outside the bath?" He sounds _way_ too eager.

"You're insatiable." He nibbles my ear.

"You're so edible." He runs his hands up and down my sides, why the heck is the water getting _hotter?_ Or is it just me?

…

Nah it was the water.

I push a button and jerk, startled as a stream of bubbles began to jet out of the sides of the bath. Geil turns his head to stare at the bubbles before shoving me into the stream of one, causing me to yelp.

"The hell, you _ass,_ I could have slipped and-" He's suddenly all around me and all over the place. He lowers himself to look me in the eye, which is not good because I _know_ that look. That look has resulted in my being unable to walk for a good few days of our honeymoon and having to result in my (practically) dragging myself into this bath.

"I said _not_ in the bath!" I poke him, but his mouth (damn that mouth, it's so _good_ at what it does) is everywhere I want it to be and nowhere it needs to be. Does that make sense? No? Because nothing really makes sense when Geil's around doing those things to me. Which is basically _always._

"But outside the bath is cold, and I like it warm, warm is nice, warm is yummy. You are yummy. I like both." He bites down on my neck, hard.

"Ever hear the phrase, you can't have your cake and eat it too?"

"No, but I don't care about cake, I have you and I can eat you too."

I groan, not just because of the bubbles and the pressure…well there's _that pressure_ down there, but that's a whole 'nother story right there.

"Remind me to thank your brother for the bath later."

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he pulled me up for a long, breath-stealing kiss.

I nodded breathlessly.

"Much later."


	2. Exotic Dancer

**Notes: Róka is apparently, Hungarian for "Fox" (I could not, for the life of me find a good translator to get an Egyptian, Russian, Arabian, Indonesian romanticized version of "fox" so I randomly clicked and found this one)**

**-kukac is "maggot", no idea how to turn it into a plural though, if someone could clear up some of these translations for me that'd be _great_ because I'm one little step past clueless XD**

**-I realize that spirit binding and summoning in game is close to instantaneous, for the sake of humiliating Delius though, I will make them a little longer and more elaborate. He also has the time to do it so he can slow it down too right? XD**

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Meeting the Troops:

"Did you hear? Castellan Róka has _finally _come back to Istani!"

"Really? So he's finally given up on chasing that rabbit?"

"I guess so…"

"I heard the Castellan is back for good!"

"The fox finally caught the rabbit then?"

"Good for the Castellan!"

"Does this mean we won't have to do anymore paper work for him?"

"Or that we'll have an actual commanding officer now? It always gets so awkward at get-togethers with other squads and I can't even tell them what my commanding officer looks like…"

Geil snickers from the room we are currently hiding in.

"Are all of your troops like that?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know, haven't stuck around long enough to find out." I nudged him, and then quickly brought up my elbow to my face. I glared at him, his new Elite Sunspear armor was a lot more painful to jab at with than his other armor…steel plates and what-not.

"Shameless…what do they mean by rabbit?"

"Wanna find out?" I glanced back through the crack in the door we were spying through. It was my turn to shrug.

"Not particularly." He snickered again, giving me a quick squeeze around the shoulders.

"I guess I should go out there…" I slid out of his lap, nudging him with my foot, which was somewhat better than my elbow because at least my foot had something covering it.

"Go get them fox." He gave a mournful sigh before standing up and stretching, wincing as his spine popped. He flashed me a quick wink before pulling up his black hood over his face, shielding the top of it from the sun and sliding out of our little hidey-hole into the squad room.

"Alright _kukacs_, quit your gossiping and someone tell me what the _mists_ was going on in my absence!" He bellowed. Five of the eight Sunspears jumped to attention, fumbling until they had assumed position and saluted him. The other three, a pair of rangers and a warrior, rolled their eyes, obviously having being used to his tactics being in his squad longer (I assume.)

"Castellan, so you've finally come back have you? For how long this time?" One of the rangers, this one in brown, spoke, kicking back in his chair and fiddling with an arrow. The other ranger, this one in green, looked up from where he was sprawled on the ground by one of the large open windows.

"Or are the rumors about the rabbit true?" Seriously, what the hell is this rabbit? The warrior snorted before returning to cleaning her flamberge.

"I highly doubt that, if Rabbit's as smart as Castellan says then Castellan's probably just here to nurse his wounded ego before running off again."

Geil plopped down on one of the chairs, vaguely amused.

"_Actually…_" He began before one of the previously at attention Sunspears, an elementalist, cleared her throat. He tilted his head towards her.

"Pardon me, sir, but um…are you going to be our official commanding officer?" She toed the ground nervously, eyes darting from one side to the other. Aeromancer no doubt. The Geomancer basking in the sun next to the ranger on the ground rolled his eyes.

"To translate that into less wimpy terms, are you going to stick around long enough for us to figure out who the hell you are?"

"Yea, why not. Actually, make that a maybe. Meh, we'll see." Geil shrugged. The monk praying next to the shrine of Melandru by the window turned to eye Geil.

"Excuse my rudeness, but what does the 'maybe' depend on?" He smirked.

"My little rabbit of course!" Rabbit, rabbit, I don't like he said that word…it gave me the sudden urge to sneeze. I crept into the room, unnoticed because Ritualists are quiet like that. Handling the dead and easily disturbed ashes and stuff. That and when you're little brother is an assassin you learn to be quiet so that you can sneak up on him.

"So…you _did_ catch your rabbit?" The warrior looked up from her sword, surprised. "Is she as good in bed as you claim her to be?"

Geil had a _girl_ in his bed? Squashing the little ember of jealousy burning in my chest, my eyes dart to Geil on the other side of the room. He didn't look like he noticed me yet, a dreamy look on the half of his face I could see. I fingered the beads on my wrap, now that I think of it, when did he have the _time_ to snag a girl? I mean, between chasing me around Cantha, occasional Sunspear check-in duties, and scaring off all my potential dates I thought he pretty much had his hands full.

Geil pouted.

"I never said my rabbit was a girl!"

Oh. Well then…

…

That would mean I'm the rabbit then wouldn't it?

…

The _hell?_

"So…do we get to meet your rabbit soon?" A paragon mumbles from the chair next to Geil.

"Yea, Castellan, I wanna see how hot this rabbit of yours is!" The second paragon pipes up from his spot leaning against the wall.

I cough, causing all of them to jump and turn to me. I glare, not that they'd notice, Elite Imperial armor and all that chaos covering my face.

"Maybe if you guys would stop talking about _him_ like he _wasn't here_ you'd get an actual introduction." I snip, sarcastically, because sarcasm is like the incense I practically breathe. The squadron blinks and Geil shrugs, sheepishly. The ranger on the floor shoots up.

"Your rabbit is an _exotic dancer?!?"_ I flush, not that they'd see under the ash, thank Grenth. Blessed Dwayna I knew this would be mortifying.

"I am _not_ an exotic dancer, and Geil _shut up_." I snap, Geil's cackles almost drowning me out as his squad rushes up to surround me. Much to my displeasure they all (except the monk) stand a few inches taller than me. What do they feed people in Istani? I mean, I'm Elonian, I'm pretty sure that we don't shoot up that high, either that or Shing Jea really screwed me over with their health junk. Now that I think of it said junk was practically rabbit food…Damn it Lyssa! Could you just once look me over when you feel like dumping some bad luck on random people?

"You dress like an exotic dancer." The Geomancer says, poking at one of the incense bags dangling from my hip.

"Are you blind?" The Aeromancer asks, timidly, I almost feel bad for snapping at her, keyword being almost.

"_No_. Could you not be touching me?" I jerk one of the strands of glass and amber beads out of the warrior's hand with a twist of my head. I slap the hand of one of the paragons as they tug at my head wrap. "Feel like stopping your minions before something falls off you ass?" I call out to where I think Geil might be. I've been spun around by this little mob and poked and prodded too much to really be able to tell where Geil is. Blue tint still settling in place from my sudden changes in motion.

"Well, he's exotic. He can dance. But he's not an _exotic_ dancer per say." He muses. "Do get off him won't you? I'd like to keep my rabbit to myself." His voice grows dangerous towards the end. They instantly back off and I huff, walking over to Geil to sit myself in the seat next to him. "This is Delius _Isnt _Blind, my husband, my bunny, my love, my heart, my…"

"Alright shut up, I think we get the idea, and I think he's about to die of mortification." The other paragon says, smothering a snicker behind a hand. I groan burying my face in my hands, slinking down in the chair.

"So…if you're not an exotic dancer, what are you?" The ranger in green asks after a short period of awkward silence.

"Do schools here not even _teach_ about other countries anymore?"

The paragon resumes his seat on the other side of Geil. "Of course we learn about other countries, but wherever you're from I guess we skip."

"I'm from Elona. How do you not learn about Elona?"

"Well…what sort of person comes from Elona looking like you? I'm from Elona, never seen something as weird as you before." The second paragon pipes up, who I shall now dub ignorant.

"Well, Ignorant, I'm Elonian and was sent of to _Cantha_ at around eight. Any hints as to what I am now or do I actually have to show you _kukacs_?" Geil smirks.

"Oh yes, please show us your _exotic_ way of _dancing,_ dearest." I glare at him, all effect lost in the fact that no one can see said glare.

The monk sits lotus style in front of the shrine to Melandru. "Would that make you one of those…what were they called? Ritualists?"

I nod. "Glad to know someone around here is smart."

"What does a Ritualist do? Can you fight?" The warrior asks, sheathing her sword and sitting down next to the paragon.

"He dances." Geil chimes in.

"Shut up would you?" I kick him under the table, which wasn't a smart move because of the hard armor versus cloth thing.

"So…he's basically a cleaner version of an exotic dancer?" Ignorant pipes up.

I throw my hands up in the air.

"Oh for the love of Grenth! I am _not_ an exotic dancer!"

"Then what do you do?!?" The geomancer snaps.

"I see dead things, I call them back from the dead, they chuck things at bad guys, bad guys die from it. That simple enough for you?" I snap, turning my head to face the geomancer.

"Isn't that what a necromancer does?" Brown ranger asks. Insert urge to kill something here. And Geil, that ass, is just sitting there enjoying this, this mortification of my profession. My _sacred_ profession. I rub my temples and pull out an incense stick, lighting it with a spark of spirit energy. I stick it in one of the leather straps of my armor. Melandru give me patience.

"I am a _Ritualist_, a _Dark Priest_, who sees _ghosts_ and brings them back with spirit energy as chained beings. I do not use the physical properties of the dead but the spiritual. I use ashes to encourage their return, I use incense to calm and control the spirit. I use _strategically thought out body movements_ to manipulate energy channels. No, that does not make me a dancer of any sort. It just looks that way to the inexperienced. Now shut _up_ before I am forced to do something _drastic."_

"That's right soldiers, if you keep going he's going to have to move strategically, something I know he's good at, and shut you up. Wouldn't want that would we?" Geil, please, please, shut your mouth…for once in your life just be quiet and generally pleasant.

The Aeromancer fidgets in the background and raises a thin hand.

"Um…sir Delius…er, if I may be so bold, but…could you _show_ us? It'd be a lot more clear than just telling us." I swear, my head hit that table so hard my head bounced off it, twice.

I drag myself up, resigned to this horrible fate. If it had been in battle at least no one would be paying attention to me, but no this is in the middle of nothing. I mutter various Canthan profanities under my breath to Geil, who slaps my ass in response. I respond by flipping him the finger. He smirks, white teeth sparkling against his dark skin and clothes.

They all back up to the table as I take my position in the middle of the room. I attempt to recall one of the few binding rituals I know for Restoration Spirits. I hear them mumble in the background as I struggle to remember the last few parts to the binding of a _Recuperation _spirit.

"So…he just stands there looking pretty?" A ranger mumbles. Geil shushes him. I wait.

The world is flooded with shades of blue, and my sight truly awakens.

I raise my hands to grasp the strands of blue energy in the air that only I can see. As soon as that familiar tingling of spirit energy touches my fingers I swiftly drag my fingers down, as if through water. I sense more than I see the ribbons of blue energy following my fingertips as I create signs that only my fellow Dark Priests could follow. I twist my body as energy pools through my veins, orienting it to and from various channels and pathways.

I feel my flesh and bones contort to guide the energy into the ground and physical plane, but I see with my spirit. My spirit sees the energy, the spirits clashing, anger, violence, hatred, and aggression, crackling around the swirls of kindness, serenity, and love.

Parts of my body are touching the ground; hands skim the ground, quickly braiding and twisting air to form chains to hold what I want down. My back briefly touches the ground as I bend back on my knees. Ghostly hands drift across my skin, dragging warmth out of my core and sending electric shocks through my nerves.

I sweep one of my legs around in a circle, creating a protective borderline that would condense my energy and the light energy I needed for _Recuperation_ while expelling the dark energy I would normally use for my Channeling and Communing. My hands begin to mold the energy, snatching it from the swirls encased in the new border, and forcing it into a ball at the base of my coiled braids of chains. I was almost done, but for safety precautions I quickly spun more wards and braids. I don't know how these volatile energies would react, as inexperienced as I am with Restoration magic. If this had been a spirit of Channeling or Communing I know the spirit would have been upset with me for binding it for no reason.

As the ball of light energy reaches it's final stages I raise my hands upwards as if raising it up, while my sight fades into dull, blue tinted darkness. My energy drains further as the spirit turns semi-physical, taking something purely spiritual and giving it a tangible form is hard work you know, and becomes visible to the regular eye. I draw myself back up from the floor, breathing a little harder than usual. The spirit floats docilely, searching out something to heal. I pull out a small dagger from my pouch and slashed my upper arm, that would keep it occupied for the time it was here.

If it couldn't heal that energy would be really hard to control, but damn that slash hurt.

Warm arms wrap around me, supporting me as I sag against the body behind me.

"You alright there lovely?" Geil rubs his face against my cheek. I idly wonder when he got there.

"Yea, I'm fine, just a little winded is all." I can feel him smirk.

"You'd think after all the things we do together you'd have a little more stamina."

"Those are two entirely different types of stamina!"

The squadron had crowded around the spirit, staring at it.

"That, is so cool!"

"What does it do?"

"That was _hot_."

"I can see why Castellan chased after you for so long."

Wait a minute, that was a demonstration of what a Ritualist is, why do I feel like they missed the point entirely?

"Are you that bendy when you're alone with the Castellan?" My head thumps against Geil's chest as he laughs.

Dear Dwayna, it's like a bunch of mini-Geil's and Delius E.'s!

"I think, we'll get along splendidly soldiers, we'll get along just _splendidly_." Geil purrs.


	3. Cheating

**Cheating:**

I hate paperwork. In all shapes and forms. I rub my temples and begin to unwind my head wrap. A few weeks in Istani is not enough for me to grow re-accustomed to the heat and humidity, not nearly enough. The morning light is harsh on my sensitive eyes. I squint at the letter in front of me, well-wishing drivel from some noble, and slide it to the side. I can have Geil answer that later. I catch sight of a letter with a familiar mark on it, by mark I don't mean seal or stamp or that sort of whatnot. I mean it's scorched from where my brother probably held it when giving it to the postman.

Postmen hate my brother, fiery temper and all. So they tend to avoid him, which leads him to setting things on fire until they can't run and he can give them his letters.

You don't want to know what my little brother does, assassin and all that dark and threatening jazz.

I flip it open as I finish unwinding the wrap from my head. I stuff the cloth and beads into my belt pouch, raising a hand to run it through my hair. Keeping your head perpetually wrapped up in various clothes and leathers can make your hair very damp and flat you know.

_B,_

_How's married life? Do you hurt? Come visit us again soon, the Count enjoys your company, the Countess enjoys Róka's. Bring me some Heket skins, they make wonderful flame retardants. _

_P.S. Pins might be gay._

_P.S.S. It's all your fault. Hope you're happy; my efforts to turn our little brother into my successor have been crushed by your man-loving ways._

_P.S.S.S. Don't know if you know this, but they don't teach the ways of the Dark Priests and Assassins in Istani anymore, guess they're angry from that blockade a few years back. _

_P.S.S.S.S. Tell mom and dad to fuck off and let me to my business._

_E._

I roll my eyes and tuck the letter away.

"Er, excuse me…erm…sorry to intrude! But um…" Cherrie, the Aeromancer, calls from the doorway. I glance up.

"Yea?" She salutes before she collapses into a nervous jabbering wreck. She twists the shimmering cloth of her Sunspear armor in a death grip eyes darting around, her All-Seeing Eye snaps and crackles with energy.

"Have you seen the Castellan around? A recruit is here for her interview, but I couldn't find him, but now I lost her and…and…and!" The poor girl looks like she's about to burst into tears, how did she get past basic Sunspear training?

"I'll go look for him, you talk to anyone else yet?" I stand up, straightening the letters to sort through later. I brush past her and start looking in all of Geil's usual haunts, the ones that none of the other recruits and soldiers (that I know of) know or have access to. Most of these haunts he's put to more, let us say, _questionable_ uses.

I stop at one of his more frequent hiding spots, and as I'm about to open the door I hear a high-pitched giggle.

Odd.

There it is again.

I know that's not Geil, if his voice could go that high I'd have some questions for him. Like, "_at one point in your life were you ever a woman?_" and _"as a child did they ever, you know?"_. But as I know of, his voice cannot go that high and now that I think of it, Cherrie did say that a recruit was here and that said recruit was a _her_. I think I've found the recruit.

A grunt.

Now that one is Geil.

What the hell are they doing in there?

_Thump_.

I open the door.

A Mesmer in Enchanter Armor is sitting on Geil, who was sprawled on the floor, pinned by said Mesmer who was about a good head shorter than him. That would place her about a head taller than me. I guess Tyrians don't get fed rabbit food like Canthans.

I blink.

I close the door.

And open it again.

Nope, scene still unchanged.

Geil attempts to sit up but is pushed back down by the obnoxiously neon pink clothed Mesmer. She giggles again, rubbing herself against him.

_Ew._

"This is _not_ what it lo.." Geil begins.

"Since when were you straight?!?" I interrupt. He blinks, hood falling lower as he props himself up on his elbows. I huff. "You heard me!"

The Mesmer rolls her eyes. "Is this what you had before me? An exotic dancer."

…

Ignorant people, I swear, one more person calls me an _exotic dancer_ and I'll show them how to _exotically_ kill someone and _dance_ on their grave. I grind my teeth.

"A _blind_ exotic dancer?" She adds noticing my eyes, which like most of the rest of my kindred priests, are in a constant state of unfocused. A side effect of having most of our sight shut off to see the spirit plane better.

"You ignorant slut, I am not blind, or an exotic dancer. I am a _Ritualist_, now could you please get off my _husband?"_ I snarl. She glares at me.

"I don't think he wants to _boy-toy_, you should feel how hard he is." I snort.

"He's _always hard_ somewhere. If anything the sight of you has him withered."

"He isn't even trying to fight back."

"I don't fight girls." Geil pipes up.

"Yea? Well _I_ do." I hiss. Is it just me and my extreme misfortune, or is it that all female Mesmers are sluts? Lyssa, if you're looking for some fun my life is _not_ the thing to mess with, I mean, my brother's an ass, he's just asking for it! Or do you find enjoyment in toying with the gay, short people?

I stomp over and grab her (ew, I touched her!) by the arm and drag her off him. I'm small and I don't fight, but that doesn't mean I'm not strong, especially hyped up on rage, pent up sarcasm, and extreme irritation. A few weeks or so is a lot of pent up sarcasm and irritation to let out in a few short actions. She begins to protest and hiss but I throw her out of the room and just before I shut the door I snarl.

"Excuse me, I think it's time I do some of my _exotic dancing_ for my _husband._" I turn around and lean against the door, locking it as the bitch on the other side claws and screeches against it. I cross my arms and tap my fingers on my bicep. "So…do tell how this came about."

He flumped back onto the ground and released a huff of air.

"Let me first tell you, that was not what it looked like, and you should be the first to know that I am not _straight_." He grimaces and shudders. "The mere idea of…with a woman is revolting." I blink and stride over to him and straddle him.

"I know." He raises a brow.

"What are you doing?" I smirk.

"_Exotically dancing._" I run my hands up his chest and lean down to kiss him. His hands immediately go to my hips and begin to sneak through my wraps. "So, who was she?" I mumble against his lips.

"Who?" He lifts me up of his lap to roll over onto me. He jerks as my hands find their target through his Sunspear leggings.

"Knew it." He pulls back to look at me.

"Knew what?"

"You were _so_ withered for her." He rolls his eyes.

"I didn't know you could get jealous."

"Tch, she just looked disgusting, did you not _see her clothes?_ I didn't realize such a shade was possible." He laughs before leaning back down to kiss me.

"Dearest, everyone is disgusting compared to you. I'm surprised you aren't yelling at me for cheating on your or something." He mumbled.

"Tch, I know you. You don't fight girls, how could you cheat on me…is she _still there?_" I glance at the door, wincing as the annoying woman's screeching hit a particularly high note.

He glances towards the door and cringes before rolling off me.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't think I _can_ with that…that…_woman_ out there." My head whips around to stare at him, incredulous.

"You're _kidding_ me."

"I don't think I am."

"You mean all I had to do to get you off me was bring a _girl_ into the situation?!?" He mock glares at me.

"_If_ you could get a girl. It's not like I'd let any get near you. Anyway…were you looking for me?"

"Yea, new recruit and Cherrie was freaking out about not finding you." He blinks.

"Well, I found the recruit. I don't like her."

"I can see that." I deadpan. "Seriously, what is up with people calling me an exotic dancer? If we ignore her long enough do you think she'll go away?"

"I don't know, and I don't know. But you really are _exotic_." He runs a hand down the side of my face.

"Hopefully that's not the only reason why you keep me around."

"Have some faith in me dearest, I'm not that shallow. I know how to dig deeper…not just literally of course." He smirks. I roll my eyes.

"Of course. You still have one space open on your team you know."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"I can _count_ yes you do."

"So can I, no I don't."

"I'm telling you, no you don't!"

He drags my head to his and rubs his forehead against mine.

"Have a little faith in me love. I can do anything."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'll find someone to fill the spot."

"You will now will you?" I breathe, his eyes are extremely distracting. I'm quite sure that they weren't always this gold. Were they? I can't seem to recall. He runs a hand through my hair. Geil seems to be having the same problem because he quickly crushes our lips together.

"I thought you couldn't do it." I laugh.

He smirks, and that _look _slides onto his face.

"Have a little faith."

* * *

"The Mesmer's gone." I blink, pulling myself out of Geil's hold, sliding off him to curl on the warm floor next to him. He slings an arm around me pulling me close to his side. I trace his tattoo with my finger. She must've left when she realized that we couldn't hear her over our own noise. Which was a lot nicer sounding than her cacophony of wails.

Geil purrs from his spot next to the floor length window, still buck-naked. Which I might add, was not a bad look for him.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, nuzzling his face into my hair.

"Told you, I can do anything."


	4. Corsair Assault

**Corsair Assault:**

"Well, well now…isn't this an interesting sight?" A rough voice grates from the marshes. I tense, bringing my staff up to attack or defend. Corsairs, a lot of corsairs, and this is not good because it's currently just me, Cherrie, Ignorant, and the brown and green rangers. Whose names, I've learned, are respectively Ambroise and Skhar. Geil took the other paragon (Telliun), geomancer (Silcon), the warrior (Sabrin), and the monk (Aria).

What this means is, if we don't wrap up this little problem soon, we _won't be wrapping it up at all._ No healers and that joyful stuff of pain.

Geil took the north route around the plains where the corsair hideout was said to be, we took the shorter, supposedly _safer_ route near the water. Upon reaching the banks of the river an ambush of corsairs popped out of the shrubbery, completely surrounding us.

We are at a terrible disadvantage. No melee classes, no healer, no caster who can cast area of affect spells of any sort, the enemy far outnumbered us, and they had the advantage of being on higher ground. Our only points of advantage are terrain and the possible hope that the corsairs have no experience over Ritualists like me. I quickly glance towards Cherrie, she's ankle deep in water. That'd be bad if any of the corsairs get near her, but otherwise she should be fine. Air and water are complements, worse comes to worse she should be far back enough to teleport out and get to safety.

Ambroise and Skhar are on the sand, easier for them to cast traps and they would be able to scatter sand into corsair eyes if need be. But if it came to close range combat they'd be first to face the onslaught.

Ignorant was in my blind spot, somewhere in front of Cherrie. His _Voice_ would be able to reach us all but I don't think he'd be able to throw that spear far enough to do anything remotely dangerous without moving forward, away from Cherrie. I motion him to hold his position.

I have only one good healing spirit and if he moved I don't think he'd be in the spirit's domain. This soirée will be all or nothing, all bets are in their favor.

Grenth, I swear, _I am not ready to die. _

With any luck Geil would figure out that the lead we were given was false and would cut through the plains and get to us in time to bail us out of this mess.

But remember, _Lyssa_ finds sick amusement in my plans and life crumbling to little itty-bitty pieces _right_ when I need it whole and relatively normal.

The captain of the corsairs, the one who spoke, gestures and the fight begins with a _Blinding Flash _courtesy of Cherrie and they swarm us.

Several spouts of spikes and flames erupt from the ground, spearing and charring the brunt force of the corsairs who charged in before prepared. Within moments I have a _Recuperation _up and begin working on conjuring a _Bloodsong_while Cherrie begins to pick off casters with_ Lightning Bolts _and _Shell Shocks_. As soon as Bloodsong is out, buying me precious time I dash to Ambroise, calling forth _Destruction_ before summoning energy to my eyes to pick off approaching warriors with _Gaze from Beyond._

I begin casting _Spirit Burn_s and _Spirit Rifts_ to removes the clumps of casters gathered on the ridge above the water. I'll leave Skhar and Ignorant to hold back the melee groups. Dodging an arrow I begin to call more spirits, recasting _Recuperation_.

We are running out of time, we're being pushed back; soon we'll all be in the water where it's easier to trip and fall. Easier to fall and not get up. Easier to _die._

I target the captain who begins his rush and I call out for _Binding Chains_ smirking as his group of fighters wink almost falling to their knees, several too stupid to stop before the hex wears off collapse lifeless. Providing a perfect opportunity for _Lamentation_ to kick in.

I continue with my rifts and burns, calling out _Lamentation_ and _Binding Chains_ as often as I can. Cherrie moves on to shocking warriors, the immediate threat of casters gone for now.

The warriors that slip past our attacks are easy targets for Ignorant, who despite his stupidity is quite good with his weapon. Skhar launches poisoned arrow after poisoned arrow at enemy after enemy. Ambroise dashes in front of us laying down traps, as we are forced farther and farther into the water.

Soon enough, we are all in the water, out of the corner of my eye I spot a rift of sand a few feet behind Cherrie, I motion them all the crowd on it. One wrong lightning spell from either Cherrie or me could fry us all. I cast a few more spirits before attempting to dash for the rift when an arm jerks me back.

I'm whirled against a hard chest and a knife is pressed against my throat.

_Shit._

Just as I think I'm done for a voice booms from the shore.

"Let. Him. Go." The captain whirls around, dragging me with him to face the new comers. Geil and the rest of the squad stand on the shore, arms ready to attack. I hiss as the knife digs into my throat, drawing blood.

"Oh? Why should I Fox Castellan? He's such a pretty little thing." I shudder, the corsair is uncomfortably close and it's getting a little hard to breathe with that knife so close to my throat. I hold my breath and wait. I trust Geil to figure out what to do.

"Isn't he? He's _my_ pretty little thing though, so get your hands off him corsair." The other corsairs in the area, because of course there's more, creep out of their hiding places. The odds are a little better for us. The captain smirks.

"I don't think so Fox, I rather like this little jewel and his beautiful dancing. He's rather exotic, and exotic sells. But of course, I'll personally see how much he's worth…" I begin to see lights dancing in my eyes.

"I don't suggest you do that." Geil snarls. I inwardly snicker I begin to feel lightheaded. The little ball of energy and light begins to build and pulse, it's hard to contain.

"Oh? Why not?"

I release the power, and bright blue energy and lightning charges out of my skin, my core. It lights up along the beads on my clothes, like blood pulsing through arteries before finally hitting the air. The smell of burning ozone charges the air. The corsair behind me is instantly fried, as is every other corsair who had the misfortune of standing in the water.

The water races towards the sand, Geil and the rest of the squad on shore quickly back up as lightning climbs out of the water and sends sand flying with the sheer recoil. The corsairs who where within a few yards of me are all dead, too close the core of the _Ancestral Rage_ and the rest felt varying degrees of shock and pain.

"That would be why." Geil answers the corpse, amused. He instantly rushes into _Balthazar_ state and spins into action, scythe whirling and sweeping across the area to slash and slice the corsairs.

"You killed my captain!" A woman yells, charging me before being stabbed by Sabrin from behind.

"You nearly killed one of _mine._" She retorts before whirling to block a warrior with her shield. Cherrie and Silcon begin to knock the corsairs pouring out of the bushes down while the paragons begin their enchantments, calling out with their _Voices_.

Aria starts her round of healing as the final corsairs are picked off one by one.

I stride to the shore, pushing corpses out of my way.

Silcon appraises me as I join them, brushing Aria's attempts at healing my minor wounds off. "So you can fight after all."

"Thanks."

"In their defense, I did warn them." Geil shrugs, cleaning his scythe off on the grass. His voice and form changed to a fiery apparition by his form of the war god. I stare at him, I haven't seen Geil use his form before.

"You look pretty." I blurt out. His burning red eyes widen and little puffs of flames burst out of his helm. He dispels the form, much to my regret and flashes me smile.

"You do too." I roll my eyes, again, not that anyone can see.

"I almost feel bad for them." Aria says, treading over various corsairs to us. "What manner of spell was that sir Delius?"

I shrug.

"Common spell back in Cantha, especially among the zu Lamigs. It's _Ancestor's Rage_, pretty much shoots lightning straight into anything it comes into contact to."

"Most impressive." She smiles.

"Isn't he?" Geil smiles, draping himself over me. "I knew I didn't need to worry."

"But you did anyway Castellan." Sabrin retorts, attempting to tug her sword out of the ground, which she impaled it, and a corsair, in. "When Castellan realized the information was false he practically dragged us across the plains, I swear I've _never _seen a dust cloud that big before until I saw the Castellan run." I rolled my eyes, nudging him and letting a little of the less dangerous electricity out.

"Overprotective fool." He smiles.

"Only when I need to be, only when I need to be."


	5. First Sight

**Notes: A _Cotillions_ is the induction of a male or female Filipino into society at ages twenty-one and eighteen respectively. For the purposes of making Geil and Delius young I will modify the ages to a younger mark. Since the eras of Guild Wars can be seen as Medieval Ages at best we can assume that, even with magic, life span rates are pretty low. Add this with how harsh the climates of Istani is, Geil's high rank within the Sunspears, and the dangers of various monsters and corsairs in general, it can be assumed that to be considered "adult" the age standard is pretty much lowered to early teens.**

**Nemes is Hungarian for "Noble"**

**First Sight:**

"_Geil_ I mean it, you need to look at these pictures. We need to pick your betrothed soon. Your Cotillions will be coming soon. You need a consort to attend with you. Geil are you paying attention? Geil Róka, I don't care that you're one of the youngest Sunspear Captains, you will listen when your mother talks to you!"

"Yes, mother…" I roll my eyes. Honestly, my Cotillions is _three_ years away. Why do I need to find someone now? My hands twitch to do something. I tug my hood over my head, argh, I hate it when Mother makes the servants arrange my hair. I'm a Sunspear Captain for Balthazar's sake; it's _going_ to get messed up. Besides, I'm a dervish; the hood pretty much covers anything that isn't my mouth.

"Geil," she says, sitting beside me gently putting down the pile of names and pictures of other high ranked Sunspears and nobles that I am to choose from. "I want what's best for you, you know that right?" She tugs my hood down to run her hand through my hair. "Please Geil, please just go with it, for once just go with it ok? I need you to look after your siblings when your Father and I are gone."

I sigh.

The guilt talk. The default argument and tactic of persuasion she's fallen to using since I was _five_, which was nine years ago.

"Mom, that doesn't work on me, we've been through this before haven't we?" I rest my face on the palm of my hand. I want to go outside, I want to train, I don't want to be here looking for girls or boys to tie myself down to. "Mom, I don't want to be betrothed. I can do fine on my own. Can't we think about this later? Like when I'm twenty?" Twenty was a long time off wasn't it? That should give me plenty of time run off and away from her and her nagging.

She sighs and shoves a paper under my face.

"I know you can do fine on your own, it's a matter of diplomacy. And when you're twenty you'll be too hard to get someone interested in you. Now, Katrika Delunes. A high ranked noble from Vabbi who-"

"Next."

"Geil, you haven't even looked at the page!"

"Listen Mom, I don't know how I know, but I know. This isn't the girl I want. I'll know who I want to spend my life with when I see her, or him." That should get her off my back. I hope it's a him. Girls are so annoying. I hope I don't find the one I'm destined to be with because of my mom though; she'd never let me live it down. I can just hear it now…

_You found your soul mate because of me, aren't you grateful to your mother?_

_I told you this would be important; see where it's gotten you? Who it's gotten to?_

_Don't you owe your life to your mother?_

_Blah blah blah blah blappity blah blah blah_

I inwardly shudder and glance towards the window.

"Mom, who's that?" I blink, there's a strange group of people at the ports near our estate. I can see them from our floor. The man, the father I suppose, was blocking a pair of children from an argument he was having with one of the captains of our ships. They were yelling but the words didn't quite reach us in the upper floor.

"Them? Oh, don't mind them, another fallen family Geil, now look at this nice girl here…"

"Fallen family?"

"Ah, they've fallen out of grace with the Vabbian King. I hear that they were highly ranked among his officers, ambassadors and soldiers of Elonian decent, but when he changed councils they were pushed out. To add injury to insult they were told to take in the bastard son of the king. You know about the bastard son right? The son of a harem woman, king didn't want him killed and was given to that family to take care of. That's the only thing that keeps them their somewhat decent positions. I'm surprised that they dare show their faces in polite society." Mother scoffs before trying to shove another paper in my face. I wave it off and take a closer look at the children, or child.

He looks my age, but the other twin is guiding him away from the fight. His eyes are cast downward and his twin is leading him across the port. Is he blind? His skin is startling pale for an Elonian. His twin is tanned and little sparks of fire are shooting from his Flame Eye show his irritation.

It's not the fiery one that holds my attention, but the one that appears blind. Something, something about him keeps me focused on him. At that moment he looks up, and begins to scan the rows of windows of our estate. His eyes stop at my window and he _glares_ at me.

I smirk and wave, perhaps he can see after all. He huffs and jerks his slightly taller brother to whisper in his ear. I retreat from the light of the window as the other brother looks up at my window. He shrugs before turning back to the other twin and guides him out of my sight.

"Him." I say, interrupting whatever my mother was saying.

"Pardon?"

"I want _him_."

"Who?"

"That boy, the blind looking one who was just out there on the pier."

"The fallen boy?!?" She drops the sheaf of papers and scrolls she was holding, abruptly standing and knocking the rest of them to the floor.

"That would be him, yes. What's his name? He'd be in the files wouldn't he, of all the noble children?"

"But, Geil, he's a _fallen._ He has no power. There's no benefit!" I turn and pull my hood down. Meeting my mother's eyes I muster up the most sober and determined look to my face.

"Mother, I've never asked anything of you before, anything. Is this not true?" She hesitates before shaking her head.

"No, I cannot recall a time when you've asked something from me or your father that you truly wanted for your own."

"I have never disobeyed your direct orders, argued or struck out against either of you either." She sits down and I take her hands in mine. I give her the most earnest face; a face that I know is completely out of my character. But this is something that I _need._ An unexplainable need, that rather than dull and fade burns brighter and sears through my veins, all-encompassing. I need to know, who is he? Where is he from? What's he like? I need to know. I feel my _soul_ call out for him. Goddesses above I feel it! This divine message that's practically slammed me in the head.

"No, I can't say you have…but finding loopholes is not something I encourage Geil."

"This isn't about loopholes. This is about, for once, what I want. What I want is that boy. What is his name?" And I do want him, like nothing else I've ever wanted in before.

"Delius, Delius Nemes. The one with the Flame eye is also Delius Nemes. The difference between the two is the middle names."

"Tell me about him, everything you know. Please." She sighs before standing to walk through the rows of scrolls in the cabinets in the center of the room. She pulls one out and sits across from me. She unfurls the scroll and scans it, making a small noise as she finds what she's looking for.

"According to the latest rumors, he's blind, or possessed. The True Gods are said to have touched his soul and changed him at night. He gets along well with the boy the Nemes were forced to take in. His twin is said to be the more powerful of the two, he doesn't show any sign of power other than his supposed possession. According to this scroll the Nemes have been calling in all their connections, the ones that they still have that is, to find some sort of solution for what is going on. They've made several contacts with Shing Jea Monastery, at one point even getting a personal reply from Togo. His parents want to try and use him as a political tool to get a foothold in Canthan trade.

With the naval blockade the Canthans are imposing because of their isolation policy the boost the Nemes would get from Canthan trade would be sure to get them back in the King's graces. But things are iffy as it is right now. The boy tends to get sick often in the extreme heat, dehydrates easily too. Rather poor stamina didn't make it into basic Sunspear training with his health. But he excels at bookwork, history, philosophy, math, small magics, those sorts of things. He's a few months younger than you."

"I want him mother, I know it's meant to be. Please don't ask how I know, I just know. Don't fight me on this mother, I'll do whatever you want, but please. It's got to be him."

"Geil, he doesn't have any power, what could he do for you?" She pleads, earnest, chocolate eyes wide and confused. Power relationships are the norm, the basis of the life of nobles. Nobles who live, breathe, and sleep diplomacy and warfare. The mastery of manipulation and threats coupled with bribery and favor are the key points of nobility. Need, love, want, desire…ever so rarely are they parts of a relationship between nobles. If anything they come after as a pleasant surprise, or come through long years of friendship between partners. To marry a noble without power, is to effectively loose rank and be subject to humiliation. For my parents to promise me to him, as their only son and eldest child it would be a complete loss of political possibility.

"I don't know, but I just _feel_ him. Like how I felt the scythe was right. It's the Gods mother, I tell you, the Gods. It's how I know just what to do in a fight. How I know just where to go, what to eat, where I am no matter how lost I am. It's how I always know just when something big is going to happen. How I know all the prayers without ever looking at the book. How I know what happens to people who disappear. It's the Gods. The Gods are pointing me to him mother. It's meant to be." Of all the messages that I've ever received from the Gods, this is the most important. This is the most treasured, the most needed. As far as I'm concerned, the _only_ one that is needed.

She looks at me long and hard, I do my best to express this feeling through my face. She sighs and turns away. She stands and walks to the door and opens it. Just before she closes it she speaks.

"I hope the Gods are right Geil, I truly do." The unspoken words hang in the air, _if they're wrong about this; it is disaster for us all._

"They are, I _know_ they are."

I glance back out the window, the boy is long gone, I know. I test the name on my tongue, rolling it like the sweet clusters of a scarlet and gold Juri berrie, "Delius Nemes. Delius…"


	6. Beads

**Notes: I've noticed Geil **_**always**_** has the last line, someone point me out of if I'm wrong. But it amuses me to no end to see that, especially since it's purely unintentional.**

**Beads:**

For once, the weather in Istani was mild, surprising no? Geil and I bask in the sunlight in the Sunspear Training grounds; he is looking for a new member to join his squad, having effectively driven off the slutty Mesmer applicant. I am there with him to keep him company (read as, drive off those damn flirts) and work on some Ritualist duties.

I lay my back against the tree we are under, the sun filtering through the leaves creating lines of warmth on my skin. Geil flips on his side, head in my lap, back to me. A pouch of glittering glass, jewel, clay, and various other material beads lies next to me, clicking as I search for certain types to finish my strand. I'm stringing beads for new strands to hang from my armor, in the soirée with the corsairs I let loose a little too much energy at once and shattered a few strands. It is my duty as a Dark Priest to maintain my armor, if I didn't it'd be much too dangerous to summon spirits.

I roll a piece of bone bead in my fingers, feeling the grooves, the little nicks and imperfections, the rough spots, the smooth spots. I suppose I'm in a musing mood, for this bead rather reminds me of Geil and me, our relationship.

It has its grooves made by years of habitual responses and attitudes. Little reactions and such that always start a chain of events that are so familiar that they happen without us knowing. Like when we fight together as a team, once he enters his series of strikes and slashes I just _know_ to begin my series of weapon spells and spirit calls. I know just when to release a charge of electricity, when it's safe to strike without danger of hurting him. He knows just when to duck, slide, dodge, or whirl out of my way. I know when to back off and let him do what he wants before I know I'm doing it. He knows that he has no blind spot to guard with me there. Irony being I'm seemingly blind.

Our imperfections complement each other. I realize that I have my faults; I'm stubborn and sarcastic, with a huge vault of bad luck just waiting to be shared. I'm not afraid to admit that I am not strong. He has his own faults; he's stubborn, easily distracted, and much too flighty for a man of his rank. He's like the sands of Elona, you can try to hold it down, but it will only stay down if it wishes to. Our nicks snag at each other, they have more than once. We're both stubborn, but we've learned to make concessions to each other. I give in a little, he gives in a little, soon enough we've given in enough to reach a mutual point.

We have our rough spots, moments we don't speak about. Taboo. There are events that have happened to both of us, we don't speak of them, we avoid them. It's not that we don't know what the other is hiding, it's that we don't _want_ to know what the other is hiding. We also have fights, fights that are huge and epically out of proportion to the topic, we don't speak of those either.

But those rough spots, once given enough time smoothen out. The sands of time polish down those rough spots into smooth expanses of glassy silk. Our fights smooth out, we learn to agree and let things be. The sands of Elona run over the argument, we fight, we fight others, and we come together again.

We're like this bead; I continue to roll in my fingers. Something out of nothing. A chance meeting as children that developed through over a decade of fights, running (on my part), chasing (on his), and struggles into a comfortable and strong bond.

"Something wrong dearest?" Geil mumbles into my leg, nuzzling my thigh, pulling me out of my musing.

"No, why?"

"You've stopped your work, you never stop your work. I can't even stop you from your work."

I laugh a little. He rolls over to face me, raising a brow under his hood.

"Actually, this time, you did stop me from my work. I was thinking."

"About?"

"Us."

"Oh? What about us?"

"This bead, it reminds me of us in a way." He takes the bead from my fingers and holds it up to the light, examining it.

"How so?" He hands the bead back to me, and he takes my hand in his, rubbing circles into the back of it with his thumb.

"It'll seem silly." I shrug, embarrassed. "It was just a thought, it's not important."

"Everything you think about is important, every last detail. No matter how dirty or simple it's important." He presses a kiss to my hand. "Tell me."

"We're not perfect." I mumble, turning my head away.

"We aren't? I rather think we are."

"I don't mean perfect that way, I mean…by normal standards."

"Normal standards?"

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

"I never forget anything you say." He lets go of my hand and reaches up to turn my face to his. "Explain, make me understand." He whispers, commanding. His golden eyes burning into mine, searing through layers of cloth and bead strands to pear into me, my soul, my core. I doubt he knows the effect his eyes have on people. He's just to flighty to realize the influence he has, powerful, commanding, persuading. He's like the Gods he channels, intimidating yet warm. A leader. It's that voice, that presence that always finds away to persuade me into whatever he wants without ever having to do any real persuading. Wow I am in a real musing mood today…must be the sun.

I hesitate. He strokes my cheek, gently, encouraging.

"It's really nothing, it's just that…I was thinking…we have our little imperfections, grooves if you will…that just make us who we are. Our relationship is like that, this bead, grooved and rough and smooth. Good parts, bad parts, but as a whole beautiful. Made out of sheer coincidence. Now that I think of it, it's rather sad." His hand is warm on my face.

"Sad? How so?"

"Out of this entire bag of beads," I gesture to the bag next to me, which sits there innocent and oblivious to the deep thinking it's just dumped onto me,"we are just one…just one small bead. So small and insignificant." He took the strands of beads from my hands, stringing the bone bead onto one of them.

"I think it's beautiful, we're one small bead…but look? See how we make this strand complete and perfect? See how our one small bead makes an unfinished, imperfect, weak strand into something strong and perfect? Bone is strong, a base. It supports everything in material base magics such as Necromancy and Ritualism. It's simple but powerful. It's complicated and unknown. It's volatile yet constant. It's a mystery. We're a mystery. I like that, that we never know what exactly we are but we do."

"How did you know the properties of bone?"

"I told you," he pulls my face down for a long, searing kiss. He pulls back, brushing his lips across mine again before pulling back to lie in my lap again. "I never forget anything you say."


	7. Twins

**Notes: As you all know, Ritualist is a profession unique to Cantha and since the place is in extreme isolation only a few of them ever get to go running around the world. So Delius B's parents have no idea what's going on with their "possessed" child. Since they're also a fallen family they want to keep him out of as much gossip as possible. So while they go on thinking he's possessed by some vengeful spirit or something Delius E gets to do whatever he wants.**

**Fivér means "Brother" in Hungarian**

**Twins:**

I heard mother and father quietly whispering to each other downstairs, I sighed and looked towards the window.

"Cheer up B, it could be worse, you really could be blind." E says from his spot on the floor where he's pulling on his Istani shoes for Sunspear Training.

"Shut up you." I frown flopping down onto the bed; I wish I could go to training too. E is so lucky, he's an elementalist who's strong _and_ he's healthy. He's also really lucky, how's that fair? As his twin I should get half of whatever he gets! "I want to go to Sunspear training too…it's not fair." I roll over to watch my twin finish preparing for Training, today he meets his training squad. He'll probably burn them all to cinders, outstrip them all and go running up the ranks of the Sunspears, probably never getting to know anyone really well (not that we wants to) but he'd still be getting valuable training! I want to go outside too, I want to train and fight and meet people.

He glances up at me.

"I'm sorry."

I roll over. "S'not your fault."

"I know, I'm just sorry. I'll tell you all about it when I get back later. I've gotta go now, be safe alright? Stay outta trouble. If anyone comes to bother you when you go outside today tell me and I'll burn them later." He ruffles my hair and walks out. I sit up and watch him leave through the window. He turns back and waves then runs off towards Kamadan. Maybe he'll learn something cool and teach me.

As soon as he's out of sight I quickly roll out of the light and rest against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut. They burn and tingle. I don't want E to worry, but my eyes have been hurting more and more. It's getting to the point where I can't stand to look at things in the sun. The pain throbs and sparks of light float around my eyelids. Mother and father's whispering gets louder, I focus on it to distract myself from the pain.

"What can we do with him?"

"We'll protect him that's what!"

"From something we can't see? Can't understand? A demon?"

"It's not a demon I tell you! We'll find something, we'll find an answer!"

"When? When he's already dead? When it's too late? We need to send him to Shing Jea, as much as I distrust the Canthans I know that they know what they're doing."

"You just want to send him away because he isn't as useful as his brother!"

"That isn't true, besides, it's better to get him out of here. Do you hear the gossip? I don't want him around that, Delius E can take care of himself, Pins' heritage keeps him safe, but Delius B? He's going blind, he's _possessed_, he can't fight back against those wolves! I just want our son to be safe."

"Safe? When he's how far away from home with strangers who've isolated themselves for as long as they have? We know nothing about them. I can't trust them with my son!"

"I trust them more than those monsters we call nobles."

A knock on the door interrupts me from listening in on them. I open my eyes, wincing a little at the searing pain the light causes. The door knocks again.

"Come in Pins, I told you, you don't have to knock, I don't care." The door cracks open and a dirty blonde head pops in. He looks around wary, not that I blame him. He hasn't had the nicest of lives.

"Fivér B?"

"Something wrong Pins?" I open my arms and Pins brightens considerably, running into the room and hoping onto my lap. In the few months he's been with us we've learned that Pins _needed_ physical reassurance as often as possible. I don't know the details about it but it was probably because of where he came from.

"Why are your mom and dad yelling? It's not something we did is it?" We, by now I know that it means "I". I shake my head.

"No Pins, it's nothing important." I smooth his hair down.

"Where's Fivér E?" I smile, Pins and E got along so well. It was like having two E's around. I couldn't help the bubble of jealousy that floated up my throat, E had everything and I was falling apart. I quickly shook my head to get rid of that Gods awful feeling. It was alright, because Pins always came to me when he needed comfort.

"He's gone to Sunspear training, you just missed him."

"Oh, when will he be back?"

"Soon, maybe he'll teach you something new when he comes back, eh? Won't that be fun?"

"Will you come watch us this time Fivér B? Please?" He pleads.

"Maybe." I couldn't possibly tell him about my _condition_. I don't want him to worry, knowing the poor kid he'd somehow find a way to blame it on himself.

"You aren't leaving us…are you?" He whispers, hugging his arms around my neck, tight. I blink, no one could have possibly told him, could they?

"No, where would you get that idea?"

"I heard that the Rókas are coming. I don't want them to take you away, but that's what they do, they take people away. Don't leave." Róka? As in the high-class noble warrior family of the Sunspears? What did they have to do with anything?

"I promise, I'm not leaving you, and if I do it's because I want to and not because someone's forcing me. And if I do leave, I swear to keep in touch." I can't promise something impossible, I know I'm being sent off, it's just a matter of time before dad works around mom and her objections.

"Hello." We both jerk up to look at the door. A tall, lanky boy leans against the doorframe. A dervish.

"Who are you?" I wrap my arms around Pins, protectively.

"No one in particular." He smiles; I can't see his face, just his mouth. I wince; the light on his armor hurts and I turn my head to face the ground. I have the strangest feeling that I've seen this person somewhere before. I let go of Pins, standing up, and I pat his head. He gets the hint and runs out of the room, running with a wide birth between him and the dervish. He glances up at the stranger, hesitating a little before darting past him and out the door. The dervish steps into the room, closing the door.

"Who are you?" I repeat.

"Like I said, no one in particular…just a soldier passing by."

"No such thing." All soldiers have a purpose. I glare, or at least try too, the motion tends to make my eyes hurt. Pity because it's one of my default looks. I vaguely hear a new voice downstairs with mom and dad. "What do you want?"

He smiles wider. "You."

"Pardon?"

"You are Delius Nemes, are you not?"

"Well, yes but…I think you-˝ I edge away from him as he steps closer, mentally cursing when I hit the bed, causing my knees to buckle and me to fall on it with a slight grunt.

"Good, I'd hate to think I have the wrong person, dearest."

"Pardon me?" I blink. Did he just call me _dearest_?

He leans down causing my to lean back before falling down on my back. This is just _weird. _He places a hand on either side of my head before nuzzling his face into my neck. I whack him on the head and he pulls back, pouting.

"That's an invasion of personal space, which you have no right to do. Get out." He simply wraps his arms around my torso, lifting me up and sitting down, putting me in his lap.

"Don't feel like it dearest."

"You asshole!" I hiss, trying to worm out of his grasp, but he's strong. Well I'm pretty weak but I should've been to at least make him wince when I elbowed him in the ribs. I have bony elbows.

"Indeed." He holds me tighter, causing me to squeak. I feebly push at him, but it's like pushing a cliff. Push all you want, it's not going to move.

"_Geil? _What are you doing, let the poor boy go." I look up, startled as Geil sighs. The warmth makes me shiver. A man in full Sunspear regalia stands in the doorway, sword strapped on his hip. He looks amused. I don't understand how, this is not amusing, this is…rape.

"Do I have to dad? He's so cute." I can just hear the jerk pout.

"Yes, we're leaving."

"Do we have to?" The man rolls his eyes.

"Yes, son, we have to. You have a job to do. Wrap this up, I'll be waiting downstairs." He eyes me then walks out of the room, shutting the door again.

"Well dearest, it seems I'll be leaving now. Try not to be too sad, I'll be back soon."

"Please don't, by the way I hope you know you have the wrong twin." He blinks, startled and gives me an odd look.

"You aren't the boy from the pier the other day?"

Pier?

"Wait…"

It can't be.

"You can't be…"

No…not that annoying spying…

"YOU ARE AREN'T YOU?!?"

He smiles. He waves his hand in that way that pissed me off from the pier. That boy who was watching my twin and I from the upper rooms of the estate next to the pier father had business with. I remember I felt eyes on me, following me, when I looked up he was there, waving at me.

"It's rude to stare at people you know." He shrugs.

"Couldn't help it dearest, you're so interesting."

"No, I'm not, I'm telling you, you have the wrong twin. You want the elementalist, my older brother. Now let me go."

"No, I want Delius B Nemes, you. Trust me dearest, I could never confuse you for your brother."

I narrow my eyes.

"How do you know my name?"

"You'll know soon dearest, very soon." He leans down and plants a kiss on my cheek before striding across the room and sliding out of the room. I nearly scream in shock, whirling to the window, ignoring the pain. He joins the Sunspear at the doorway, looks up and waves to me. I snarl before whirling back inside, fuming.

* * *

A few minutes of sulking later I go downstairs.

"Mom? Dad?" I run my hand along the side of the wall to guide me as I squint in the sea of light that is our home. I startle when a hand is placed on my shoulder.

"Yo." E says. "I'm home, Mom and Dad just left to go somewhere."

"Oh. How was training?"

"It was nice." He gives me a weird look.

"What's wrong? What's with that look." He shakes his head.

"It's nothing…" E turns away, shuffling nervously. E doesn't do nervous. Something is wrong.

"Seriously, I'm your twin, you can tell me anything. You can't possibly surprise me, especially after all these years of being completely surprising. I don't think there's anything new you can pull on me now."

"Since when did you know the famous Fox Captain?" He blurts out. I blink, and then my eyes bug out as I realize what he just asked. "He came in the middle of training, pulled me over then asked me to tell you something."

"Wait, wait, I don't know the Fox Captain." How could I possibly know _the _Fox Captain? The famous Sunspear Captain who rose through the ranks at a unheard of rate, only stopping because it was decided his age was too much of a factor to promote him higher. No one sees the Fox Captain in battle and lives to tell about it.

"You sure? Because he seemed to know you."

"What did he look like?" I'm pretty sure I'd know if I met the Fox Captain.

"Dervish, tall, tan, couldn't see his face because of his hood…" Oh, dear Lyssa, don't tell me…

"Said to tell you, in his words exactly, 'Be seeing you soon lovely'".

Oh dear Melandru it is. Dear Dwayna, I threatened, hit, and cursed at the Fox Castellan.

I groan.

"You do know him!" E exclaims.

"Did he say anything else?" I ask ignoring him.

"Yea, he also says…er…also in his exact words, 'And you're so cute backed up in a corner'".

Shit.


	8. Tolerance

**Difference:**

"Are you _insane?_ That's a Charr. I know you don't get them in Cantha, and rarely do we get them in Elona…but it's a Charr. You kill Charr. You don't show them mercy, they wouldn't!" I snarl at Delius, gripping his arm, trying to push him out of the way to get at the pair of Charr, a Bladestorm and an Avenger.

"He's right meat, let your mate finish us off like he wants to. We don't need your pity." The Avenger snarls, holding the Bladestorm, who was dripping blood from a wound I had just given it.

"I'm not giving you pity, Geil _stop_. They're hurt. They can't possibly fight against the both of us. Let them go." Delius pushes me back, and it's all I can do to not shove him out of the way, because that'd probably hurt him, and _rip_ the Charr to death with my bare hands. My scythe long discarded off some yards behind me when I dropped it in my rush to get to Delius before he did something stupid. Like he is right now.

"Delius, so help me, I am not above knocking you out to get to do my job. Get out of my way now." He mumbles something under his breath before sending a jolt of electricity through my system. I grit my teeth, it's not nearly enough to seriously hurt me, but damn it all it still hurts.

"You are not the boss of me. Now get back or I _will_ pull an _Ancestral Rage_ on you and you will _not_ be doing anything for a long time." I hiss before backing down, as I see and hear the ozone begin to burn around his skin.

"What are you doing?"

The Bladestorm grumbles about stupid meat causing me to lunge at him. Delius throws himself against me, knocking us both to the ground, which in any other circumstance would be nice. But not _now_. I hiss, he's bound me with spirit chains.

He stands up and frowns at me before directing his frown at the pair of Charr.

"Now you three idiots will listen to me, I am not showing pity, I don't do that. Not my style. I am going to heal you and let you go. And you, Geil, are going to sit there and not do anything about it because so help me I will fry your brain." He prepares his chants for healing spirits, ignoring my hisses of protest.

The spirits are up and begin healing the two Charr, who he quickly binds down with spirit chains as well to make sure they didn't move.

"Meat, you act strange. Why do you do this? We kill your young, we burn your homes. What do you want?" The Bladestorm snarls from his position. The Avenger eyes dart between Delius and me.

"I don't want anything." He sits and assumes lotus position, a position I've learned that many Ritualists and Monks often assume to sort through thoughts. "During my stay in Cantha and my tutelage under Master Togo I learned many things. Among those things I was taught, the most important thing I learned was tolerance.

"But I did not learn tolerance through formal teaching. I learned it through being myself. When my family fell from the graces of the king of Vabbi we were ostracized and forced out, clinging to what we could find. We were wretched from our security and life, shoved into a new mysterious and entirely strange one full of stares and whispers. When I first began to gain spirit sight and loose mortal sight among my native peoples, people who I thought would always care for me; I became a target of hurtful words and hate crimes. I wondered, why am I so different from they? I can still see, my eyes are weak but I still see. Why do they whisper? I have done no wrong but to exist. What made me so different?" He breathes in and out, as if to calm himself before launching himself into his tale.

"Then when I was sent away to Cantha I got more stares. I had thought at the time, surely things will improve, now I will be around people who understand me. People who know what spirit sight is, that I am touched by a God. But for being what I am, Elonian, I got whispers of suspicion. My fellow students laughed at me, and taunted me for my ignorance of Canthan ways. They mocked the Elonian rituals and language I had grown up with. We grew up under different sets of morals, across an entire sea. I learned to understand that there was no way they could have known our differences.

"However, things grew worse the more assimilated I became. I was apparently, touched by the _wrong_ God. I was confused, how could there be a wrong God? Are not all Gods equal? Did they not all share power as us humans are meant to? Because I was touched by the God of Death I too, was treated like death. Even the Ritualist and Necromancer peers of Cantha avoided me. I could never understand it. Through the blessing of God I was isolated, because I was _born_ I was mocked." I inwardly snarled at the thought, I hated ignorance.

"That is how I learned tolerance. I realized that we are not all equal. The world is not that simple, as much as I would like it to be. The Gods are not equal, one is favored over the other, it is all a matter of opinions. Which is why I have always failed to understand…Why do humans and Charr not get along? Do they both not have young?" He raised his head as if to stare at the sky. The Charr grumbled. "I do not understand you, but I wish to. I cannot pass judgment on you, I am unable to. For me to condemn you and your race without knowing an iota of your culture, your reasoning, and automatically assume my own race to be superior and correct is pure stupidity. Even I, a human or meat as you would say, cannot completely say that we are completely correct. If anything this ancient feud between us was started by our own greed."

The Bladestorm relaxes under the ministrations of the spirits.

"You are not so bad for a meat." He grumbles. Delius smiles.

"Thank you, I do not believe you are bad for a Charr."

The Avenger stares at Delius. "Thank you…human. I am indebted to you."

Delius shakes his head. "No, this is me simply helping another living creature. You owe me no debt."

The Bladestorm turns to the Avenger and nods. The avenger speaks again, "I am the Charr Avenger Spire, and this is my pack mate Charr Bladestorm Slashmire. We are grateful to you, human. Know that you have allies among the Charr. You are an interesting one human. If you had been born Charr, I am certain that you would have risen to be a Flame Keeper."

"I don't know what the means, but thank you. I am Delius Nemes of Elonia, this is my husband Sunspear Castellan Geil Róka. I cannot speak for him, but as long as we are off the battlefield I would be happy to consider you a friend or ally. If it means anything to you, had you been human I am sure you would have been a great warrior to live among the Zaishen or Guilds." He releases their bonds, rising to bow to them as they nod their heads and run.

I hiss and return to attempting to break the chains and reach them. Delius sighs and sits down in front of me, slowly undoing his head wrap as he blocks them from my view. "They are getting away! Let me up!"

"Did you not learn anything from my story?"

"That people are twits? Aside from that let me up!" I snarl, seconds away from bellowing. He sighs.

"Why do we hunt Charr?" He asks. I blink. I have never questioned why, it's a common fact.

"Because they kill people. Innocent people, young people, old people, people."

"Why?"

"Because they're _bad_." Did he get hit in the head when I wasn't looking? He folds the wrap and tucks it in a pouch.

"You're missing my point, what makes them bad Geil? Have you ever stopped to think, there is a reason why they fight humans. I have. Call me strange, but being rejected by people you trust does that to you. Geil, my point is, they just want to survive like we do. We shouldn't be fighting, we should be getting along. There must have been something to drive the Charr to such extremes. I bet somewhere along the line, the first humans insulted the first Charr and things probably got really ugly from there."

"Delius, they kill people." I felt my anger dim a little.

"People kill people. I think the Charr are smarter than we are sometimes, Charr don't kill Charr. People kill people _and Charr and whatever else comes their way that looks remotely strange._ How is that more civilized to you? How are we more civilized Geil? I don't understand. Why am I the bad one for healing the injured? Why am I in the wrong for being touched by God? Why am I evil because I'm going blind?"

"I don't know, dearest…they're Charr." Even I couldn't believe my own words, my rage fully drowned.

"Geil, why did you pick me for your bonded? You of all people should have heard of the rumors." I blinked and sat up, rubbing my wrists as he released the chains, climbing into my lap as I wrapped myself around him. Rage fully gone.

"I knew they weren't true."

"How did you know?"

"Because, it's wrong for me to judge you without knowing you."

"But isn't that what we do with the Charr?"

I pause.

"You're just full of little surprises aren't you?" I muse. He grins.

"But of course."

"On another note, did you notice the closeness of those two Charr?"

He blinked. "Yea, why?"

"Following your tangent of humans and Charr being similar, I do believe those Charr were like us, now that I think of it."

"How so?"

"Notice the Ritualist protects the Warrior? Understands him? Supported him? I'm willing to bet that isn't a closeness that all Charr have."

"Are you saying they're an item?" He laughs amused, "I didn't realize Charr could swing that way."

"No, but maybe they're just closer than they let on. Wouldn't that be amusing though?"

"Indeed." I turn him to straddle me and press a kiss to his lips.

"My little Ritualist, I hope you don't do this to all the enemies we're supposed to fight, it would make my job a lot harder."

"Course not, as long as it's a sentient creature off the battle field I wouldn't be able to guarantee it though." I press another kiss to his lips. "Speaking of _hard_ though…"

I chuckle before sliding my hands down to his hips. "Enough talk Ritualist, I believe it's time for action."


	9. Hand in the Dark

**Hand in the Darkness:**

I panted, wheezing with exertion as I stumbled through the marshes outside of Kamadan. I collapsed to the ground, hoping that I had finally lost my pursuers. I listened, I could not hear their taunting jeers or threats, nor could I hear the snapping of foliage behind me or the dry pats of feet on earth.

I was safe, for now.

But, I was completely and utterly lost. Comparing the beasts of Istani that I would soon be properly introduced to with my luck, and the beasts of civilization I would probably do best here. Sure I'd most likely die a horrible, painful, bloody death but it'd be so much better than going back to Kamadan.

The sun would be setting soon, and then I would truly be blind. I could barely see during the day, everything was so bright and distorted; the light magnified thousands of times over, but at night? There was nothing, just vague specks of floating lights that where everywhere and nowhere, they where nothing and no one. In the night I was completely and utterly defenseless. When the moon rose and the sun fell I was both at my best and worst.

Once, a long time ago my family had thought that I would be a powerful Aeromancer, for at night I feel energy crackle through my body like E felt flame course through his veins. When I began to go blind though, all hopes of this were washed down the drain.

I curled into a ball at the base of a large tree, surrounded with boulders and moss I settled into my makeshift seat to wait. I don't know what I am waiting for, but as long as something happens it's fine. I highly doubt my family would start looking for me until the moon had ridden her chariot to the zenith of her domain to look over the sands of Istani. Those people who chased me wouldn't even bother to mention what happened, maybe until I was dead, maybe not at all.

My eyes began to slip closed, and I focus on the sounds of the wilderness. The rustle of small animals and insects in the brush. Birds chirping and lizards slithering across sun baked rocks. It seemed magnified just as the light had been. I let it wash over me, like the comforting sounds of my mom when she sang to me oh so long ago. The gentle warmth of my father cradling me as he walked through dunes and dunes of sand in Vabbi. The warmth of my twin's body curled against mine in our shared bed back in Vabbi when we were young. The quiet tiptoe of Pins coming to join me at night when he was afraid. It all ran together like several grains of sand in a glass.

I wouldn't be here if it wasn't because of those boys from Istani, I hate it here. I wish we were back in Vabbi, but we aren't. The people of Kamadan are horrible, the Sunspears are horrible, everything is horrible. The mocking chortles, the harsh whispers, the cacophony of noise that was oh so wrong for civilization. Nothing like Vabbi's waterfall of sweet sounds, tinkling laughter, and soothing murmurs.

* * *

"Look at the blind kid!"

"Yea, look at the blind kid. Hey blind kid! What are you doing here? Think you can fight like a big boy? Or do you need someone to hold your hand?"

"Get out of here Vabbi spawn! You aren't wanted here!"

"Hey guys! I got a new game we can play!"

"What?"

"Tell me!"

"I wanna play!"

"It's called 'Banishing the Demon'…"

"Oh, I love that game!"

"Yea, hey blind kid you can play too."

"Yea, you be the demon…"

"And we'll be the demon hunters."

"If you can survive until nightfall you win."

"If we catch you…well…we're hunters after all."

The boys suddenly seized up rocks and wooden spears and hurled them, jabbed them at me. I ran, I didn't know where I was going, but I still ran. Blurs of light and color shifted by me as I ran. I tripped and stumbled, and every time I felt rocks hurtled at me, the occasional fire spell or spear joined in soon. I could hear the citizens laughing, I could feel them pointing and mocking me. I'm afraid, for my life, afraid that they won't stop this hunting. Where are the Sunspears? Isn't that the point of the order? To keep people safe? What about me? I'm a citizen of Istani, I'm a person, I haven't done anything wrong. Who's going to protect me?

I felt my heart leap into my throat as I saw the Sunspears ahead of me begin to block the gates. A can see a few more in the corner of my vision, startling white against the golds and browns of the city. To my extreme horror they do not move to stop, they pick up arms to join in.

I am alone. There is no one for me. I'm alone among my people. I'm afraid, I put as much strength in my legs as I can and run into the wilderness.

* * *

"Delius? Delius is that you?" I jolt out of my musings.

"Who's there? What do you want?" I curl up into my ball tighter, pressing myself against the tree to make myself as small as possible.

"It's me, Geil, you remember? The dervish you called an asshole the other day? What are you doing out here?" His hand brushes my arm and I jerk, crying out in surprise. He stops. "What's wrong? You're bleeding. Tell me what happened?"

"Like you care, _Sunspear_." I hiss. I lift my head, it's dark, completely dark, and I'm afraid. I lower my head again. He pulls me up, causing me to cry out again and I struggle to get out of his grip. "Let me go! Leave me alone! Why can't any of you leave me alone? I didn't do anything wrong!" Exasperation seeps into my voice.

"I know that, why would you think you did something wrong?" He asks, curious.

"Because I was just run out of the city by _children and Sunspears._ Tell your men to leave me alone, I won't go to the city anymore, so they can stop worrying." His grip tightens, causing me to whimper. He lets go and I hear the faint pop of a bottle being opened. The pungent smell of _Troll Unguent _tickles my nose a second later. The cool tingling sensation of the salve is rubbed onto my arms by warm hands.

"_Sunspears_ did this to you? Tell me what happened, start from the beginning." He orders, voice firm and I can sense rage behind it. I stare blankly ahead of me, seeing nothing but glimmering lights that I can't touch, or that I'm afraid to. My skin begins to tingle with energy. The moon is up.

"What are you doing out here? Did you come to finish me off?" I snarl.

"Of course not, don't be stupid. Tell me what happened."

"I, I went into the city. I didn't know it was wrong of me. I just wanted to go outside for once." I shiver, I'm cold, but the energy just continues to build within me, pleasant and dangerous. Warm but not in the places it needs to be. His fingers search for other wounds, urging me to continue. "But, when I got there…it was really, really bright. I couldn't see, just colors, and I accidentally bumped into someone. It was a bunch of people playing I guess…and they didn't like me. They took up spears and rocks; a few of them knew some basic spells and chased me. I ran, and got lost. End of story."

"Why did you not look for help?"

"I ran straight through the city General, I don't think anyone would want to help me. I saw Sunspears too, before you ask. They joined in on the fun." He pulls me up, steadying my wobbling against him.

"I'm getting you out of here, to a professional healer, and tomorrow you are going to show me who did this to you." I back up against the tree.

"I don't think so, who sent you anyway? What do you really want?"

"Nothing. Can you see?"

"No." He pulled me next to him, our sides touched and he began to walk, we walked together. He would nudge me with his side out of the way of obstacles, not leading, not following, but walking with me.

His hand gripped mine, and my skin tingled for an entirely different reason. When was the last time someone held my hand? When was the last time someone walked with me side by side? Mother and Father, always a guiding hand on my shoulder, E and Pins simply guided me, arm slung around my shoulder or hand on wrist or elbow. It made something inside me shrink away to think that I couldn't remember the last time I had walked with someone as an equal.

The electricity was suddenly flaring and I let go, jerking away from him just as he was about to pull me out of the way of something, a pitfall it would seem. One of the several defensive traps placed to keep Kamadan safe. My hands caught onto a root in time to keep me from falling down into, what I'm sure, a layer of spikes.

"Delius!" He yells. "Grab my hand."

"I can't." I grit my teeth, the electricity is charging and it's everywhere but nowhere it needs to be, overflowing and yet not enough to be good. "Get away from me!"

"Delius, I'm not near you, you have to grab my hand."

"I'm telling you, I can't, I can't see your hand. Get away! It's dangerous." Light dances in my eyes and it's completely blinding.

"I'm not leaving you Delius. I'm not. I can't." His voice is so earnest. I hear him groan and huff as, I'm assuming, attempts to grab for me. It hurts, inside and outside. I wonder if this is what a Mesmer hex feels like? "Delius, dearest, you're going to have to trust me on this, I need you to _let go._ I'll grab you, you just need to let go."

"Are you insane?!? I can't see, you probably can barely reach me, and you want me to _let go?"_ I cry. The light seers my eyes, I feel them prickle with tears.

"Dearest, please you just have to trust me."

"How can I trust you? I don't even know you."

"I swear, as the Fox General, Geil, I will reach you and so help me Divine Five you will be safely brought home with me!" Home, that word, that word that I haven't used in what feels like forever. How come this boy, this man, this Geil, how come he can bring up all those memories without me even thinking? He makes me thinking without trying. He makes me sad and happy and tingly and the pain is so overwhelming. I let go, at least if I do die the energy wouldn't bother me anymore.

There is a moment of emptiness, where I'm suspended in air, lost and unaware of what will happen. Then I feel the jerk of him catching me and the energy inside suddenly explodes. I hear him hiss before he pulls me up and I feel the earth.

His hand is still wrapped around mine. I am suddenly aware, there is a hand in the darkness. It's still dark, that's definitely for sure, but there's a hand. His hand, I see it wrapped around mine. The darkness thins out around his wrist before thickening into absolute blindness at mid-forearm.

"I told you, didn't I? You can trust me."

"Hand in the dark." I mumble.

"Pardon?" I roll onto my side and run my finger over the fine bones of his fingers as they grip mine. "What was that light before?"

"Energy, I see your hand. I can _see_ your hand." I whisper again, awestruck. I can see. Melandru I can see!

"I guess that's what leaps of faith can do then." He laughs and pulls me up; I stare at our hands, fascinated. The energy is right now, it's warm and cool, it flows perfectly now, and it doesn't seem to stop. I don't' know where it's from but it's just continuous. I feel the energy inside me and around me. The lights, which I thought I could not touch, I can. I reach out with my hand, running my hands through the streams of light. They tingle and whisper.

"What are you doing?" He tugs me along, side once again pressed to mine. I sense the sun begin to rise.

"Why were you in the forest?"

"I couldn't find you."

"Couldn't find me?"

"I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't' find you. I saw your brother threatening some of my spears. I overheard them mention something about chasing someone into the woods. I was worried."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? It's because I like you."

"No one likes me, at least, not any spears."

"I like you, my dad likes you. That's more than enough spears. Anyway, when we get back, I'll make sure that the Sunspears, _all_ Sunspears go through a nice long lecture of why our order exists. Then I'll personally come down to beat some sense into a few of them. Alright more than a few of them…you get my point." I feel myself flush.

"That's not necessary. Besides, you don't even know me, how can you like me?"

"Point is, I want to know you. Consider this the hand in the dark. I don't know what I'm reaching for, you don't know what you're reaching for. But with a little faith we can find something."

"That's lame, but I suppose I could try it." I flush a little more, but I grip the hand tighter. I can hear the quiet whisper of the Sunspears on duty.

"We're here."

"Thank you General."

"Call me Geil, please." I shrug.

"Alright Geil, thank you for helping me." The name is strange in my mouth, but not unpleasant. I hear a woman scream, my father. Suddenly arms are around me and I'm in complete darkness again, I yelp.

"B you idiot! Don't you do that again! I'm the stupid, irresponsible one of us remember?" E says nuzzling his face into my neck. Small arms wrap around my waist. I hear Pins quietly sniffle. Mother and father surround us both.

"Thank you General Róka, thank you so, so much."

"We can never thank you enough General! We owe you so much."

"It was nothing, really it wasn't. Anything for my future-in-laws."

…

Wait, _what?_


	10. Voracious Reader

**Notes: Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem **_**How do I love thee? Let me count the ways **_**is a real poem and a real poet. Also **_**I held a Jewel in my fingers **_**is a poem by Emily Dickinson.**

**Well Read:**

Despite what many people think of me and my husband, Delius is not the scholastic of the two of us. Oh yes, he reads and he's a definite thinker and new age philosopher, but he is no scholastic. Sure he can debate over the existence of life, the purpose of all things we do, fate, knowledge, truth, and whatnot, but we both know that he'll never be as voracious a reader as I.

Ever since I was young and first learned to read I was insatiable.

Tomes, Scrolls, tablets, walls, situations, people. I love to read. It amused Delius to no extent that I could be pleased by a simple offering of a trip to the scholar's rooms of the Kurzick or Luxon Libraries, a drop by the Monastery's records, or a bartering session at a bazaar of some sort. He appreciated my love for books, to an extent, but my need for the written word went far beyond pleasure. Based on what Delius has told me, my passion for reading is similar to his need to release energy.

Hence, why in our estate -yes estate, the Countess zu Lamig is oh so good to people she likes, and she has more than enough to throw out- we have a nice, large, room filled from ceiling to floor with _books_. Books, scrolls, tomes, various scripts of literature. There were also large floor to ceiling windows with long white Elonian cloth curtains; the sun is warm on my skin as I flip through a thick volume of poetry from Tyria.

Flipping through the various pages my eyes roam over the words, oh this volume I've long memorized. But the point of my reading isn't for the privilege of saying that I've read it. Sure there's the prestige that only a select few can claim to honestly have by saying they've read and can recite the words of the world's greatest writers, can think among the lines of the great philosophers, and can trace the flow of history from day to day. But these words to me, these words were something completely different.

When I read the words were like liquid washing over my mind, easing their way into the little cracks and grooves, fiddling and tingling at my senses. I mused with them, toyed with them, wondered about them. With all that I've read it's no wonder that I can twist words to my way.

I've also gained a knack for reading situations; the minutest things could tip me off. It is ever so easy to just relate a situation to something that I've read. Terribly easy, to a point it's quite simple to predict certain events.

But I liked to read people best.

Facial expressions, twitches, little movements, reactions, all those things were so interesting. Every person was a new book, a new language. Sure, I could apply some of the words from one person to another, but every person was different. One reaction could mean something different between two different people. People are a never ending book, being rewritten, written, plotted out, and the language ever changing. It was usually very easy to read people, but there were some that were just plain difficult.

Of all the people and books I've read in my life, there is one that I have yet to completely crack. He's challenging, but his language is beautiful and exotic. Changed, changing, and continuous.

His face, although hidden most of the time, when uncovered (and almost always only around _me_) is completely open and expressive. Emotions flickered across it like the intangible things they are, like the spirits and energy he conjures. They couldn't be held down by force, the must be coaxed out into view, it was hard work to keep one down, but the reward was oh so brilliantly spectacular.

There were times when his lips would turn down just so, I have learned to read these times as when he was desperately amused but was unable to express it at the moment. When he bit his lip it was to keep himself in line from saying something inappropriate. There were times when he would tilt his head and get the most dazed expression in his face, at those times he would be in an especially contemplative mood. But my favorite expression to read was when he had the most adorable smile on his face, that smile…for that smile I found him, let him go, and found him again. That smile that read to be, _I don't understand why you think I'm worth it, but I love you, I wish I was worth you._ That smile that was oh so delicious to kiss, it made me sad and happy and dazed and all sorts of things at once.

There was only one thing I liked doing more than seeing that smile, and that was kissing it off his face and turning it into my second favorite expression to read off him.

"What are you doing? You've stopped reading." I glance up, smiling at said subject of reading in question. I place the book down.

"No book could ever compare to you, dearest." He chews his lip. It makes me warm inside.

"That's a lie, I'm sure there's something out there better." His eyes dart from me to the window he sits in front of in lotus position. One of the first things I learned to read was that, when his eyes couldn't rest on something neither could his mind, and it was usually for the worst. It was always better to pull him back before his thoughts got the better of him.

"Delius?" His eyes snap to me, another thing that I've learned, using his proper name always called him to attention.

"Geil?" His eyes no longer roaming but extremely focused. When Delius focused on something, he really _focused_. His world narrowed down from extreme broadness to extreme narrowness to hone in on one subject. At first it was slightly perturbing, but now I found it extremely sexy.

I beckon him with a 'come hither' motion; he tilts his head but unfolds his legs to stride over to me. I spread my legs for him to stand between them, he loops his arms around my shoulders, I gaze into his eyes. Those powerful eyes. How often had they sent men and women to their doom? How many times had they stunned and bewildered people with their sheer intensity that was still oddly vacant?

He frowns.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Not at all." I place my hands on his hips, giving him a slow smile. He smiles that smile of his, and it's all I can do to not ravish him right then and there. No, that would come later, right now I was in the mood for something a much more innocuous. I tug his head down to plant a light kiss on his lips, forehead, lips again. "Tell me, have you ever heard the poems of Elizabeth Browning?"

He raises a brow. "No, you know I haven't read much in a long time."

"Aside from Canthan?"

"Aside from Canthan." He amends. We have found that Canthan, being thick strokes of a brush, were much easier for Delius to read than the thin scrawls of quills used in Elonian and Tyrian.

I turn him around and tug him down to sit on my lap, wrapping one arm around his waist and I pick up the volume of poems with another. He wiggles in my grasp a bit as I rest my chin on his shoulder and begin to read.

_"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._  
_I love thee to the depth and breadth and height_  
_My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight_  
_For the ends of Being and ideal Grace._  
_I love thee to the level of everyday's_  
_Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light._  
_I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;_  
_I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise._  
_I love thee with the passion put to use_  
_In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith._  
_I love thee with a love-"_

* * *

Night has fallen by the time I finish reading to Delius. His eyes have lulled into a low, half-lidded gaze. I press a kiss to his shoulder. "Awake love?"

He blinks to full awareness. "Of course, you read well. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed some nice poetry."

"Thank you, dearest, it is always a pleasure to read to you."

"Or read me?" He smirks. That expression is evil; it makes me want to do all sorts of naughty things, which, now that my itch to read to my dearest is scratched, I do believe I will satisfy.

"How about both?" He blinks, shock flittering across his face, he never ceases to be surprised when I say something like that. He twists in my hold to straddle my lap.

"How can you do both at once?" He tilts his head.

"Quite easily, did you know I've always wanted to have sex with you in the library?" He blushes and sputters, causing me to laugh when he attempts to hit me. I catch his hand, brining it up to my face to press a kiss into it. I press it to my cheek, closing my eyes, recalling my words as if they were printed on my eyelids. I press more kisses onto his palm, murmuring into it.

_"I held a Jewel in my fingers --_  
_And went to sleep --_  
_The day was warm, and winds were prosy --_  
_I said 'Twill keep' – "_

He let out a gasp as I nip at his wrist, shivering. Then he speaks.

_"I woke -- and chid my honest fingers,_  
_The Gem was gone --_  
_And now, an Amethyst remembrance_  
_Is all I own –"_

I smile against his skin.

"Will you, too leave me, my dearest gem?" I gaze into his face, he smiles, a slow, small smile..

"If I do, would you chase me again?" I chuckle.

"Of course."

"Then I suppose I can save us both the energy and time by not leaving then." I press our foreheads together, laughing softly.

"I didn't know you've read Dickinson."

He rolls his eyes before kissing me; it's always a surprise for me when he initiates something. I've yet to learn how to read that. I look forward to though, I'll find the key words soon enough.

"I may not read as much as you, but I have read enough to hold a conversation with those wolves in human skin." I laugh, surprised that he would say something so bold, rarely does he ever comment on the high society we both loathe, as much as we are immersed in it. I'd have to learn to read for that too.

"Of course, but why you'd want to I'll never know."

I roll my hips against his, causing him to release a delicious moan, clamping down on my own. Yes, I gasp as he runs his hands, butterfly light, under my clothes and over my skin; I have much more to read.

It's a good thing I'm such a voracious reader.


	11. Restless

**Notes: mentions of nudity, and some words that made me giggle to type…yea I chickened out on the lemon XD Couldn't write it!**

**Restless:**

I groaned, skin cold and the breeze tickling my face.

Wait.

_Cold?_

I haven't woken up cold since I was in the shared rooms of Cantha. There has always been a (on most occasions, but not lately, not since I got married) warm, tight body lying next to, on top of, or below me when I wake up.

Curiosity peaked I sat up, opening my eyes while scrubbing a hand across my face and hair, wincing as my lower half tingled in memory of last night's activities. I groped the bed for the sheets, giving up when I recalled that they had been kicked off the bed to some corner along with our clothes in one of the more wild moments of the night.

The wind blew the curtains from the balcony windows, I stood up, not bothering with clothes- it was only Geil and me in the house, and he's seen it all too many times to count anyway- and move to the balcony. The moon had ridden her chariot to the peak of her kingdom, but gazed at it with only half an eye, the other closed as if to block out the inferiority of the earth. Geil was not outside, nor was he in the yard, I couldn't see him or sense his spirit. I closed the window, clicking the glass closed and padded out of our room.

Where could he have gone?

I searched room by room, a small knot of worry growing with each room I found empty. Yet I did not quicken my pace, the darkness is my friend, despite my worry I am confident that I would find him. My eyes, my mentality was better suited to the night than Geil's day. My eyes idly followed the currents of spirit energy in the air, searching for the distinct strand that was my husband's. Electricity tingled through my body as I became more and more awake.

I couldn't find him on the second floor, or the first floor, so I felt my way down the stairs to the ground floor. He had not been in his library, the bath, the training room, the pool, the glass garden…I couldn't think of a place he could be on the first floor other than those.

Wondering where he could be my eyes finally caught sight of the strand that was Geil's. It was the color of ember sand, with sparkles of golden sun, and burned with the quiet intensity of firestones yet to be called to life. I followed the whispering trail outside, around to the back of the house to the overhang formed by the large balcony of our room. There he was, sitting, gazing at the shimmering waters of the pool. I lean against the side of the house, simply watching.

He, too, is naked, sitting down letting his long legs dangle off the drop-off from walk-around porch ledge to earth. He leans back on his arms, closing his scorching gold eyes as he turns his face up to the moon, which shines her half-given attention upon his face. Her attentions splay streaks of silver light on the planes of his hard, linear body.

"What are you doing out here?" He turns to face me, smoldering eyes almost glowing in the darkness, standing out among the deep shades of night.

"I could ask the same of you. I can't believe you're still restless after earlier." I stride over to him; he reaches up one of his long arms to grip my hand, bringing it to his lips, brushing my knuckles across them.

"It's nothing dearest. But speaking of earlier, how in the world are you able to walk? I was quite willing to bet that you wouldn't be getting up at all for a long time." He smirks against the back of my hand. I roll my eyes.

"Remember, the night is my ally. I heal faster in the dark, stupid." I allow electricity to ghost over my skin as proof, causing him to chuckle and tug me down to sit next to him. He swings himself to the side to rest against one of the thick stone columns, pulling me between his legs to lie against his chest. I curl in his arms, relishing the warmth that he seemed to perpetually emit. He continues to brush his lips across my head, the hand he still held in his grasp, the wrist, the hand, and so forth.

"What are you doing up?" I whisper, eyes lulling closed.

"I get restless dearest, did I wake you?" He murmurs, neither of us willing to speak up and disturb the night and shatter the serenity of the moment, the stillness. It seemed in a life of perpetual moment these nights were peacefully still, a moment of respite in a constant sensory rush.

"It was more that I was cold than you waking me up. Which, I have to admit, was rather surprising." His chest shakes with contained laughter as we both remember how I usually wake up, usually with him doing something entirely inappropriate. "Why are you restless? Something on your mind?"

"Not really."

"Seriously, what's wrong?" He sighs, curling around me tighter.

"Just thinking about too much at once."

"Care to relieve the load on me? Among other things?" I pointedly referring to the semi-hard length trapped between us. He smirks, flashing pearl white teeth.

"Sunspear duties, noble intrigue, little scandals here and there, it's just the usual dearest, nothing to worry over." His thumbs rub small circles on my lower back.

"It is if it wakes you up." I slide my hands across his chest, letting out small bursts of energy here and there, just enough to lessen the knots of tension held there. His shoulders ease a bit with each knot I loosen. My hands flitter over him, returning to knots attempting to remove them altogether.

"I don't mean to worry you dearest." He runs a hand through his hair, shoving strands of deep black out of his face before returning it to my back. "You know how the nobles quibble amongst each other, it would just appear that my sisters got caught up in it this time is all. And of course, the Sunspears are getting acting up because the nobles are, and that always leads to something big."

"What happened?"

"Can we not talk about it right now?" A pained look flashes across his face. "I really don't want to spoil the moment." I sigh, shivering as his hands tease and flitter.

"Distraction sex isn't as good as happy sex you know." I mumble into his neck as he sits me up. I spread my legs, straddling his lap, moaning as our erections brushed. I curled my arms around his neck, shivering as he slowly teased and played with my skin.

"You don't know that, I haven't had distraction sex with you yet."

"I can just tell. I'm awesome like that." I smile; he slowly smiles too, some of the tension draining away from him again.

He gasps as I bite down on his neck to suppress a groan.

"Next time you feel restless, just come to me." I whisper, breathless against his skin. He nods, jerking at the friction.

"Duly noted. Are you sure distraction sex isn't as good as happy sex?" I roll my eyes before shuddering as his fingers teased at my entrance. Wiggling in his iron grasp.

"Quite." But he was well on his way to proving it wasn't, which knowing him, he was about to tell me so.

"Then I'll just have to work on proving that wrong."

* * *

I groaned, wiggling further into the soft mattress, ignoring the teasing fingers at my side. "Go away. Go be restless or something. Lemme sleep." I flip a pillow over my head. I idly realize Geil must've brought me back to the room.

Geil laughs. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the splotches of light playing on my eyelids. The sun dances across my skin, the weight on my side leaves. The light touch of the sheets we had long abandoned signals the return of the weight as Geil drapes them over me. He climbs in next to me, curling himself against me.

"Aren't I supposed to wake you up though?"

"I take it back, I was asleep, you had me in need, I was worried, I can't be held responsible. A combination of those three is just asking for irrational mistakes." He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, brushing away the locks of hair that escaped my sleeping tail. Stupid restless dervishes with voracious appetites.

"Of course dearest, are you getting up soon?"

"Ngh." I attempt to smother myself back to sleep. "You actually think I can get up?"

"That's what I thought."


	12. I Know Your Troubles: I

**I Know Your Troubles:**

"So how ever do you manage?" The red haired necromancer drawls from his seat on a tree stump next to me. I glance over, barely seeing him around the rim of my hood. I stop my work, I had been sharpening my scythe until he spoke.

"Manage what?" His eyes flicker over me, and I can taste the teasing, toying, amused, Mesmer attitude he has on the tip of my tongue. He gestures with a black clad hand to my husband and his wife, who were currently in a contest of wits.

"With much difficulty." I deadpan. The countess, bares her small white teeth at Delius, who smirks back, fingers dancing with electricity as they battle for dominance in a game that only they could understand. They stand a few yards apart, a game of chicken, he with lightning and fire and she with shadows and cold. If I tapped into the power of Grenth I could just see the edges of their natural weapons whipping in and out of the physical plane.

It was a dangerous game, but it would seem that they had yet to realize it.

Orage laughs, leaning back on his palms, gazing at the countess with a soft smile. His eyes could follow the game much better than mine ever could, but his mind had yet to phantom the reasoning behind it, and that point bothered him to no end. I could see so in his eyes, the way his shoulders tensed and his pupils dilated and contracted with every muscle they moved. It should have unnerved me the way he watched them so closely, but it didn't.

"Seriously though, I know first hand how hard it is to love a child of Grenth, accept one. How do you manage? The gap that can't be reconciled? How do you work around the differences?" I watch Delius, barely seeing the hints of blue lightning crackling against the stone floors of the Echovald forest, Madilim's frost just barely working around it in time. I shrug, and resume my sharpening.

"It's hard, but it's worth it in the end…isn't it Mesmer?" He rolls his eyes, tossing his scarlet hair out of his face. It was hard for my to picture it as black, I was beginning to be unable to see him as anything other than Orage. The thought of that mildly surprised and amused me.

"Secondary Mesmer, if you will. And of course it's worth it. But you can't tell me that there aren't any times when you just _wonder_." He exhales the last word, punctuating it with a wild gesture that left shadows of shadows whisping through the air.

"Of course there are times when I have doubts." He opens his mouth but I interrupt. "But not the doubts you think." I send him a pointed look, daring him to say something wity.

"Oh?" He sounds amused, that fake perpetual amusement that all children of Lyssa seem to carry, not that it was a bad thing. I pause my work once again, and try to voice the doubts that skitter around my head.

"I doubt whether I'm worthy, whether I'm making an actual impact on him or not…sometimes I doubt whether he really does care, if he's telling the truth. I doubt the veracity of this, of us." I gesture with my hand to the air around us. "Is this all a lie, is he going to disappear on me tomorrow? If not tomorrow the day after? Would I have to chase him again and pin him down again and start this all over? Of course I think about those things sometimes. But never, never have I ever doubted my love for him."

"You must have at one point." He presses. He knows the answer, he wants to hear it, I know he does.

"Have you?" He blinks, suprised at the sudden reversal.

"I suppose not in the way you're thinking."

"How do you doubt then, Count Orage?" He rolls his eyes at the formality, a joke between the two of us that no one seems to get, much like how no one seems to get our respective lover's games.

"As a child of Lyssa I have learned to never take anything for face value. The flip side of that is that I always seek truth, and in flip side to that I must always twist the truth. I suppose for us there is no truth, simply what we decide to make of things. All our lives are facades, all our lives are little stories that we write as we please. Everything is amusement, _everything_. So I doubt. Is this what I truly feel? Is this what she truly feels? Is this a _lie_?" He also gestures, a slight shadow following his movement. He sighs, a small cloud of barely visible frost is exhaled, the sign of his status.

"I have done terrible things. My creator, my master, my mother, she was both cruel to me and kind. She would give me dreams when I had no use to her, dreams of lives of 'what-ifs' and little tastes and touches of the future. She could plop me back into a memory I'd long forgotten and I'd live through it again and again and again, never realizing that the memory _wasn't real._ I've always, always will, wonder, is this the same?" He shuts his eyes tight, as if to ward of the feeling attached to those questions.

"What's worst about that is…would I remember it? Would she make me relive this again? Would I want to relive this again? She would sometimes wipe my memory of an event, and put me back in several times again and again to see how many different reactions she could pull out of me…to mock me for it later. Sometimes though, I'd remember, see flashes of those 'what-ifs' and lives, and it hurt inside. But I always got over it, I grew detached." A yelp distracts us and our heads snap to the game.

Delius snickers as the countess pouts, glaring at him through slit eyes. She shakes her head and notices us watching. She nods at me and waves a hand at Orage. Delius speaks to her and she retorts, but I can't hear what they are saying and am to far away to read their lips. Delius turns to me and smiles before turning back to the countess to start a new round of the game. A spark of hurt and love burns in my chest. I rub it absently.

Orage continues. I rest my scythe against my side, closing my eyes, like it would close my heart to what I'm hearing. But even if I closed my heart to him, I couldn't close it to myself.

"But I grew attached, smoke and lies don't get caught. Smoke and lies and magic isn't mean to be held down and become real and tangible. Tools don't think, soldiers don't think, illusions don't think. It's _wrong._ I wanted to be caught, I wanted to be held down, I wanted to be real and tangible. But…what if it isn't real? What if I became real became caught by another illusion? Another lie? Another twisted mirror? What if I _am_ caught and am about to wake up right now? Is this my last moment? Thinking of lies? Is this the last I'll ever see of her?

"I have always wondered, even after _that_ and my return…it scares me. It scares me more than anything I've ever, _ever_ seen or experience has. And we all know I've seen and experienced some true horrors." He stops and we both shudder at the thoughts of what he has done in his mock-life. This man, this destroyer, a criminal, traitor, and a devil of the highest class, this monstrosity of the Gods…

Loved, doubted, worried, feared, and pained as we mortal creatures did.

The _Gods_ we have always loved and revered had created this monster to destroy us, and yet even that pawn, touched by the hand of love, became as human as we are.

Despite all that he was born to do, has done, and would probably do again in the future…he _felt._

"I know your troubles." I speak, voice low I tilt my head back, trying to call some light into my body. It was cold in Cantha, so desperately cold, especially so around two of the darkest Dark Ones to ever walk the earth.

His eyes, those powerful eyes that seemed bottomless with destruction, pain, and mystery, drill into the side of my face. I push my hood back and his eyes fix to my tattoo, the shimmering eye and wave, before slowly dragging back up to my face.

"I see." His hand ghosts across his collarbone, where a mark of similar purpose, but different origins, lies hidden beneath leather and steel.

Both of us, tools to a higher power, with no other purpose but to serve. Both of us, creatures with mindless aims who were unaware of a higher existence. Prisoners, quite literally, without ever knowing it. In the dark never seeing light and believing ourselves to be all seeing. Liberated from our prisons by such a simple thing as love, awakened by the touch of another existence, dragged into the light by the promise of a life.

Such pathetic things we were, _are_.

Both of us turn to look at the game that continued on, uninterrupted and oblivious to the world, in front of us.

The countess had long discarded her bulky robes and frills, stripped down to what would be indecent had she not been in the company of seasoned veterans who could understand the annoyance of fighting restricted warfare. I close my eyes and picture the voluminous cloud of blacks and reds with splattering of silver glistening in it like a distorted and bloody night sky. I picture it curling around her, cupping her, shielding her, snapping and flowing, a serpent, a fox, slithering, prowling in perpetual motion. I open my eyes.

Delius half crouched, leaning forward with bones rattling between his long elegant fingers, strips of beads and various items clinking and tinkling off his body. Ash swirls curling, disappearing, rearing, appearing, glowing, ebbing, flowing everywhere all over the place. I close my eyes once again. This time I see surges of lightning, light, dark, cool, burning blues forming a sort of cage around him, burning white flames crackling from his shielded eyes searing the everything around it. I picture it flexing in and out, like a hand that can't decide whether or not to close and kill or release. I open my eyes before the hand can close.

If we blinked would they be gone? An entire lifetime, an entire person, gone in an eye blink, was it possible? I don't want to know, but I'm willing to bet Orage knows the answer to that. Would we wake up and be back in our prison, this all being a cruel dream of some sort? Would I ever be able to be who I was again? Did I want to be who I was? Where would we go from there? The cruelty of that, the sheer cruelty of that situation made the bile rise in my throat and my heart hammer.

If it was, would we ever be able to _return_ to what we were?

We both know the answer to that.


	13. I Know Your Troubles: II

**I Know Your Troubles, Part II:**

"What do you think they're talking about? They talk too quietly to hear from here."

"No idea, it's not like I can read lips."

"You can't read _anything_ Delius."

"Not true!"

"Canthan doesn't count." The countess shoots me a pointed look, I shrug, carefully brining up my head wraps and began to bind my eyes. "Ready to get your butt kicked Priest?"

I smirk. "I should be asking you that countess." She gives an unladylike snort, not that she's very ladylike. I sense her begin to unravel her aura, allowing it to flex and extend. I open my spirit eyes and the world returns in a rush of blues and whites. I flex my own aura, which I had been keeping confined during my stay in Istani.

The rules of our game were simple, we start opposite each other and the goal of the game was to take as much territory from the other as possible.

Extend the aura, fight for what you have, fight for more, and continue until the entire area was yours or the enemy's. A mixture of strategy and force, quite simple really…and yet it would seem that only the two of us enjoyed and understood it.

Our husbands sat off to the far side of the clearing, speaking to each other, about what neither of us knew.

We begin the game.

Her plume of darkness spreads out like ooze, swallowing unclaimed land, while my electricity snaps out, snatching at territory. This was the easy part. The hard part, the fun part, came when the two territories clashed.

In the mean time, for this part was rather slow because ooze and lightning were both slow and not very progressive, we talked. Quiet whispers about whatever, things that only children of Grenth would know.

She speaks.

"Does it scare you Priest?" her voice a mere whisper. In the stillness of the forest and the heightened I gained with blindness her voice was no quieter than my own steady breathing.

"Does what scare me countess?" I tilt my head, drawing comfort in the quiet tinkle of beads and bone as dangling threads clinked across my face. "Our game?"

"No." She shakes her head, disturbing the spirit waves in the air. "Them." Her eyes dart off to the side, my spirit eyes follow.

"Our bonded? What do you mean by that countess?" Our territories begin to clash, but just bare touches, no need to start fighting yet. "If you mean them working together in some sort of scheme then yes. Who wouldn't?"

She laughs. "No again, but that is also very true. I mean, do you fear _what they can do?_ I fear it."

"Explain, please." I tilt my head again. She waves her lace-clad hands and begins to manipulate her aura. I pull the small rune bones out from a hidden pocket of my armor and roll them between my fingers. My aura dances in response to the quiet clacks of bone.

"We are children of _Grenth_, beloved by him, blessed by him, and marked by him, Delius. It doesn't need any more explaining." I feel my lips downturn into a frown.

That was true.

It didn't need any explaining.

"Yes. I am afraid." I whisper, knowing she would hear me.

Our battle begins, but neither of us is truly in it. Her question launching the both of us into contemplative musings, the battle unable to distract us.

We are children of Grenth; we are loved by the True God of _Death_.

As such we bore the mark of our dark Father. Physically we both had the eyes, the skin, and the tattoo scars. We accepted his love, and so her teeth sharpened, lips darkened and my fingers thinned and lengthened.

We would never be mistaken for anything but what we are, Dark Ones, a Dark Priest and a Dark Mistress.

Growing up, we started normal, alive, vibrant, healthy…and then we grew into our roles. The shadows of society, the servants who did the dirty work while the children of other Gods gained glory. In exchange we gained a certain realization, a certain perspective that isolated us even more.

We saw, with startling clarity, and understood the natural cycle of things. People were born, grew, made more people, died, end of story. The world didn't care, didn't stop for those things.

But who would care for us? Our parents? No. They either hated us or treated us like glass, as if we'd turn on them like demons. Those of the dark are paranoid; we grew up in hostile and often misleading environments. So to be given something without strings attached was strange, stupid sounding even.

Love, love was a foreign concept. So, why did they love us? Why does Geil love me like he does? Why did Orage return for her? There must be a reason, some sort of exchange.

The power our lovers held over us was frightening. They had built us up, made something out of us, people whom nobody expected anything from. But not only did they expect, they drew it out of us, when even _we_ didn't expect or try anything. The hope that their return, their presence, the mere mention of their _names_ brought us was frightening in its amount.

Since meeting Geil I have never been alone.

So he did scare me. This invisible power he held over me, did he even know he had it? If he did, would he use it? _Is_ he using it?

As dark children we were used to isolation, encouraged it even. Why would I encourage closeness just to have someone break it off later?

Regardless of how hard I had tried, and oh did I _try, _to shove him out of my life he had wormed his way in. For all his annoying, perverted, stubborn ways he made a niche in my life and I had learned to accept it. I had learned to work around and with him, to love him. He has become a central part of my life; he was someone from the sun.

A gift, one I had accepted after years of it being pushed at me, from the Gods that someone who was not from the dark who loved me. Loved _me_, Delius, a Dark Priest for no reason other than that I _am_ Delius the Dark Priest.

And her? For her it must have been infinitely harder. She didn't have the doubt; she had the solid proof of what would happen.

For all of us of the dark, all of us, things like this? Things like this were jokes, pranks, cruel tricks designed to make us hurt more. So we were constantly on edge for the other shoe to drop.

For her, the shoe had dropped.

Orage had popped up and played her like an instrument. Played her like a damn master, but we could not fault him. It wasn't his fault, it was what he was designed to do. He was designed to hurt, destroy.

Just as she had turned her entire point around, stopped waiting for that shoe to drop, it dropped. It dropped hard.

He left, and he didn't just leave, he left setting fire to everything on his way out. Let it never be said that Mesmers ever held back their flair. He nearly killed her, so close, if we had not reached her in time. She was a wreck for weeks, in the end we had to send her back to her sisters. None of us heard from her for months.

Zefi ran off, causing the other two Banes to run off after her. The Luxon twins had crumpled and my brother and the gray assassin were left to pick up the shambles.

Orage had quite literally ripped us _all_ apart with his disappearance.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Madilim came back. She dragged us all together and led us on a crusade to get Zefi back from the North. But she wasn't quite _right_. Through it all she longed, waited, searched for him, the betrayer.

He came back, in the end, he came back and she ran to him sobbing and they were both crying and everything was right again. But they were back to square one, this time _both_ of them waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don't know what he was waiting for, but I know what she was.

She was waiting for him to disappear again.

She was waiting for him to disappear and reappear then disappear again. She would wait for him, an endless unbreakable cycle of waiting and anxiety. Something that we couldn't help.

I, myself, was waiting for the shoe to drop. I have no proof that it would happen, but I wait for it anyway.

Who am I to have this happiness? I commune with the dead, I handle their bodies without a second thought, I have done things that most people would have nightmares from. So who am I to have this love, this life, this man to call my own? I should have nothing.

"I know your troubles." I whisper. I feel my blood flow, cold within my body. It was always cold, never warm. The cold that washed over us at such a young age never faded. It would always be there. I throw myself into the battle, to loose the feeling of fear and anxiety that wormed its way up my gut.

I send the electricity arcing across the area to strike at her; she raises a hand to deflect. We continue for some period of time, trying to distract ourselves form our thoughts but not quite succeeding before I see an opening and take it.

She yelps as the electricity strikes her wrist, I smirk. She notices something off to the side, and waves her thin waif-like hand. I turn and notice our husbands watching us.

"Advantage mine." I say, flashing a quick smile at Geil.

"Not for long." She retorts before launching her aura at me. I deflect.

She glares, pouting, before beginning to strip out of her formal garb. She tosses the lace gloves off to the side before wiggling out of the crimson and black stripped taffeta volumes. Unsurprisingly she has thin strips of leather and metal underneath, once a fighter always a fighter.

What would I do if the shoe _did _drop though?

How would I cope?

Geil was what my life revolved around, the centripetal force that tied me down to one place. How would I move on? I had nowhere to go if he were to leave me.

It scared me, how this originally unwanted person, once gone could destroy my life. My life that I had built to be empty was full, and I would sooner die than let go and be empty again. I wouldn't be able to pick up the pieces and move on if he left.

He came for me, searched me out and pursued me until I gave in and got comfortable. I was used to him, I _needed_ him. If he left like Orage did, I don't think I could recover or pretend like the countess had.

If he did come back, I would forgive him. I knew that. I could never fault him. I needed, loved him, too much for that. And the cycle would start anew, just as it has for the countess. I would just have more anxiety for the next time he left. I would continually set myself up for pain and hurt.

What would I become if he left and _never came back_? What would _she_, one of the most powerful minion masters of our time, become if Orage left and never came back?

I gazed at the woman in front of me was we fought. She gave me a grim look, as if she knew what I was thinking.

I send the mental question to her, _what will we become?_

We both know the answer to that.


	14. Noble Rage

**Notes: Förtelmes is Hungarian for "Disgusting"**

**Noble Rage:**

I groaned, shifting, hissing as pain rips through my torso. I grope at the sheets, trying to push them off me. I was way too hot for sheets. And this bed was rather uncomfortable.

_Bed?_

My eyes shoot open; last I recall I was on the battlefield shoving a citizen out of the way of a corsair…a corsair that should not have been in the middle of dry ass land.

I glance around; someone had taken me back to the Sunspear barracks. I wince as I attempt to sit up, before flopping back down on the bed. The sheets are coarse and scratchy, not at all like the sheets at home.

Home.

Delius was going to be _pissed_ with me, I promised him I'd be home, now who knew how long I'd been out? Well, if I'd been out for too long someone would have told him where I was. But knowing how much some people were wary of him they probably wouldn't have. Damn it all, I was going to have one pissed Ritualist to deal with, but that could be a good thing. Mellowing out Delius when he was in a snit almost always proved to be a fun challenge.

"What do you mean I can't see him?!?"

I blink; I guess he found out after all. I crane my neck towards the door of the medical ward I'm in. It's closed but it doesn't stop me from hearing Delius snarl at Sunspears from the other side.

"I'm sorry sir, but Castellan Róka is very injured and it's best that he's left alone." I hear the shuffling of feet near the door and the clink of metal shields and spears.

"Do you realize how stupid that is? The idiot will probably kill himself trying to get up. Or sitting still, breathing, twitching I don't know. Hell just sleeping he might do something completely idiotic and die. You will let me see him, so help me Grenth!" Aw, he sounded worried. This would have been funny if he didn't sound like he was about to seriously snap, and he's put enough spears in the infirmary for the month. I attempt to sit up again, better to break it up now before something happened.

"Sir Ritualist, please leave. You're not needed here." I lie back down, wincing as I feel my muscles strain. I open my mouth to yell at them to shut up and let Delius in when a sudden chill bursts through the air.

They were _so_ in for it. From the both of us, once I was able to sit up that is. Note to self: beat some sense into recruits.

But for now I'll let Delius deal with this. It's been a while since he let out all of his angry, sadistic, biting, words.

"Did you just say I'm not needed here?" All the torches go out, only for them to be relit a few tense seconds later by pale blue spirit flames. They cast eerie glows on the ground, and I can just picture them illuminating Delius in all the right ways. "Answer me spear!" He hisses.

The cold begins to create frost on the stone, as well as in his voice. The entire time his voice doesn't rise above its original level.

"Sir…please." The spear whimpers. I picture him backing up to the wall, hands up as if to shield himself.

"I am Delius Nemes _Róka_, Castellan Róka's husband, I have every fucking right to see him. I am also your superior officer and have _political_ immunity to your fucking rules. Check my files. You'll see the face of a woman you _don't mess with_. Much like you're seeing the face of your death if you don't get out of my way. You can't tell me what to do and you can't tell me to stay away from my husband. If you try, so help me I will rip you _all_ to pieces and dance in your ashes, let me see him now! Get out of my way." It brings an odd warmth to me to hear him use his full name, _my_ name. The authority in his voice reminds me that he was raised to be obeyed, something that people forgot. Delius was born a noble and would die as nothing less. Even if his version of nobility was much cleaner than what current standards spoke of.

I hear the faint crackle of electricity and wince. I realize that I'm the one who has to calm him down if they do let him in and this wasn't the usual I'm-pissed-and-gonna-electrocute-you Delius. This was the I'm-in-a-fucking-rage-get-out-of-my-way-before-I-turn-you-into-a-smear Delius.

To let him in or not to let him in, that is the question.

As sexy as he is when he's angry, I do not look forward to having him vent that anger on _me_. I'm already injured, and I probably won't be able to shut him up with a kiss. The door slams open and Delius storms in, slamming it back behind him. He hurries to my side, glaring at me the entire time, practically vibrating with anger.

"You. Idiot." He snarls before smacking me, hard. Not that it hurts much, but I'm injured and he's seething with energy and at least a week's worth of pent up anger.

I wince. Of course Delius would have no mercy on the injured.

He then sits on the bed, curling up against my side, nuzzling into my neck, instantly making the hard scratchy bed into a comfortable nest.

"I'm sorry, dearest, I didn't think there'd actually be any trouble on the patrol…" Seriously, a few plants, maybe a bug or two, but no one mentioned a platoon of corsairs would be there. In the middle of the fucking desert, what _pirate_ patrols the middle of waterless land? Really?

"Just shut up." I want to wrap my arms around him, but a twinge in my shoulder tells me I won't be moving it for a long time. "You idiot." He mumbles.

We lie together in companionable silence before he speaks again.

"I hate spears."

"Do you hate me?"

"I'm coming very close to it." He snaps. "Do you know how worried I was when you didn't come back for a _week?_ And no one would tell me what happened. I had to track down your _squad_ to tell me what happened. And imagine my alarm when I find out that you've been _hospitalized_ for a week and no one bothered to tell me. And when I come here do you know what I had to get through to find you? I had to go through security and those stupid spears. Then I see you, covered in fucking bandages lying here like it's fucking ok."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. We both know this is going to happen again and again and again because it's your Gods damned job. You love your job."

I sigh. I do love my job. "I love you more."

"I know."

"I'm sorry. Truly I am."

"They wouldn't let me see you." He mumbles into my neck, dejected.

"I heard."

"I'm your husband and they wouldn't let me see you. Like I'm a fucking threat."

"Well, considering what you do to me you are a threat, blood doesn't go to the right places when you're around dearest." He lightly slaps my chest.

"Stop joking around this is serious."

I sigh before trying to press more of my skin against Delius, he's cool and it's always way too hot in Istani. He curls his arm across my chest, nuzzling his face into my neck. We both sigh in contentment. Delius always complains he's cold and that I'm warm, I always complain I'm too hot and he's cool.

"I'll talk to them. They should know better by now."

"It won't stop them Geil, Sunspears, Nobles, even citizens. I'm different Geil. No matter how much you talk or try to beat sense into them it just wont happen. Gods, I'm tired."

"I wish it would though. I'm tired too. I wish this was the tired we could sleep off."

"You could have died and no one would have told me. No one would have let me see you. They would have taken you from me." I snarl, angry, because I know its true. People cared to much about names and titles than actual people.

"I wouldn't have died."

"You could have though." He presses. The words _you will someday_ weigh heavily in the air.

"But I didn't." He runs a spirit coated hand down my chest, doing what he can to soothe and heal wounds. I reach up with my other hand to hold his, I squeeze it. "I wont." I kiss his fingers. "I wont."

He shifts on the bed resting his head on the pillow next to me.

"On another note. You sound ever so sexy when you're mad." He snorts.

"Your libido is always on isn't it?"

"Only when you're around dearest." I smirk as he flicks my cheek. He huffs, causing the beads in front of his face to clink. "I don't think I've heard you that mad in a long time. The last time I think was at my sister's Cotillions, when you found out that I didn't have one." He props himself up on his elbows, tilting his head to the side. He flips so that he's lying on his stomach, leaning his head down to brush a kiss to the cheek he flicked.

"We still need to fix that by the way. I should have one too."

"Just friends though," I grimace, "I don't want to dance with nobles. They're so…so…_förtelmes_." He shudders as well.

"Of course, they scare me." I laugh. "Stop that, you'll open something and I don't want to get up and talk to those idiot spears again."

"You scare them more. Don't get up, I wont pull anything."

"Until they realize they outnumber me. But then they realize that I have you on my side. I suppose that evens it out. And yes you will, you're an idiot remember?"

"There's also your temper love. You react completely differently than what they expect. You fight _clean_. Yes dearest, I remember." I roll my eyes.

"Only at first." I laugh, wincing because it hurts. "Stop already!"

"Then you fight like your name. It's ever so amusing to watch. And I'm just talking, I'll be fine." He huffs giving up before returning to the original topic.

"My name?"

"Nemes Róka. Noble Fox. It's completely contradictory but it's incredibly effective."

"I'm just doing what they do, just more subtle. Until they cross a line, which they do pretty damn often, then all bets are off. I've learned a lot about noble intrigue studying in Cantha."

"I forget that you can get that angry, I forget you're a noble sometimes...but hearing you order people around like that reminds me about it." I muse. His voice, when using the full extent of his force and aura, holds no room for argument or disobedience. It was a commander's voice.

"I _am_ a Nemes, no matter what people say we are _noble._" Indeed, sometimes, I thought, more noble than the actual nobles.

"Even when you're in a rage you're noble. Like one of those old time, chivalrous lords from the times of the Guilds, you know? All cold fire, sneaky threats and manipulation. Play nice but then completely shatter all that with one word. Double speak and whatnot. You may hate it, dearest, but you're excellent at it."

"That sounds more like you Geil. You're the fox after all."

I turn my head to press a kiss to his head.

"If I'm the lord does that make you my lady?" His lips twitch up into a small smile. Something inside me settles, knowing that he can smile now relieves me. It means that we're ok.

"Don't make me hit you again."

"Of course not dearest, wouldn't want you to unleash all that noble rage on me."


	15. Feminine

**Notes: Warning: semi-graphic attempt at a sex scene (again can't go through with it! XD Too hard for me at the moment.) May want to stop reading about halfway through.**

**THIS SEGMENT IS RATED _M_ DUE TO GRAPHIC CONENT! DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HAVE THE MENTAL IMAGE OF MY POOR WRITING SCENE STUCK IN YOUR HEAD!**

**Feminine:**

Geil was so close to slamming his head onto the table, I could feel it, and if this weren't so funny I would have probably tried to calm him down too. As it is, this is extremely hilarious and I attempt to drown my snicker in a cough. Seeing as Geil shoots a glare my way it wasn't a good attempt to drown it.

"I don't _want_ to be a dervish dude!" The recruit in front of Geil exclaimed, waving his arms around.

"The Gods have _chosen you_ this isn't about what you want." He replies, a few seconds away from snarling. The silly reed of a boy, Vabbian, had just come from Vabbi and was completely unaware of life in Istani. He was adamant that he did not want to be a dervish and his continued protest was grating on Geil's nerves.

Geil and I had been in his office; he working and I meditating in a patch of sunlight, when a disgruntled Mizu slammed the office door open and threw the boy in. She then snarled, "he's your problem now" before slamming the door closed, the sound of feet dashing off quickly following.

One _full_ hour later we were still here and the boy was still being a stubborn brat about it.

It was completely and totally hilarious to watch. Geil had broken three quills, crumpled four scrolls, and upset one inkbottle in his attempts to reign in his temper. The boy had, in turn, knocked his chair over six times, knocked his knee into the desk corner five times, and slammed his hands on the desk twice.

Only twice because the second time Geil had looked like he was going to eat him alive the second time he did it and had invaded his personal space in the process. Leave it to Geil to be a hypocrite about personal space.

Geil sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Let's try a different tactic. Why don't you tell me _why_ you don't want to be a dervish and we'll work from there?" The boy blinks, surprised that Geil would ask, as I was. He must be really desperate to get this kid out of here if he was actually acquiescing to the kid's tantrums.

"Because it's _girly._"

I cough, choking on my own laughter that I had once again been attempting to drown. Geil's form freezes in shock.

"Pardon me?" He forces out after a few seconds of shock.

"It's girly." The boy repeats, as if it were obvious. "You wear a dress. I'm a boy. I'm not gay."

"It' is not girly, it's practical." Geil snaps.

"You're _gay__**.**_"

"That has nothing to do with what I wear!"

"It's a skirt, like, dude…it's a _skirt."_

"They're _leggings_." Geil stresses. I just about have my breathing under control when the boy speaks again.

"All Sunspears are either women or gay." Resume choking laughs, cue glare from dervish, shine incredulous look from boy. Geil's about to slam his head on the table but catches himself just as his neck begins to bend.

"What makes you think that?"

"Have you not seen the paragons? Sunspear armor for men looks like it comes from the king's harem or something for a few types of mages too!"

"It's practical, it is very hard to get sand out of pants and tight clothing." Geil says through grit teeth.

"Your boyfriend over there is most definitely not from here, but he's a spear and he dresses gay."

Oh, they were not bringing me into this. Geil suddenly looks amused. Not good. May day, someone send an SOS, help, bottle in water, I don't know. I did not want to be here for his explanation of that.

"That would be because he's very feminine."

"I am _not_." I hiss, startling the boy. "You're the one in a skirt."

"You're in _ribbons_ and _beads_." He smirks. "Exotic-dancer." The kid's eyes practically bug out of his head.

"For the last time, I am not an exotic dancer. And they are _Ritualist raiment._ I repeat _raiment._ They are necessary to the movement of energy and the summoning of spirits."

Geil turns away, ignoring me.

"He's very feminine, which is why he hides his face. He's terribly shy you see. He just hides it under a layer of sarcasm and biting words." A smirk flashes across his face, it's rather disturbing just seeing pearly white teeth from the middle of a shadowed face. "He also dances wonderfully. He has this particular attraction to dervishes too." I unfold my legs form lotus position and stomp over to him, smacking him upside the head.

"Would you shut up?"

"Dance, dancer, dance." He taunts. I hiss. The boy stares at me as if I'm an animal straight from the menagerie.

"What are you looking at?" I snap. He blinks.

"Told you, _gay_." He folds his arms over his chest and flops against the back of the chair. Geil's arm suddenly snaps out and curls around me, forcing me down onto his lap.

"I'm telling you, practical." Geil retorts. "For example, these kinds of clothes are terribly easy to get into." His hand slips through a gap in my armor and slowly drags up my chest, causing me to shiver and hiss. "And out of." He adds, fingering a tie at my hip.

"Geil, get your hands off me, so help me Grenth!" The boy gapes at us. Geil continues on, unperturbed. Hand moving from hip to slip between my legs and stroke. I groan, shivering against him, trying for all I'm worth to get out of his grasp. No way am I letting him do this _here._

"Consider how easy it is when you're in such simple garb to go home and return to your paramour?" He smirks, lips ghosting over my ear. I shiver as his fingers lightly finger me. It's so _hot._

I groan.

The boy stands up, knocking his chair over for the _what time?_ I arch into his hand as he rakes fingertips just right on my skin. I distantly hear the door slam before I'm flat on the table, mouth on mine.

"You, bastard." I hiss, biting his lip before dragging him down for another kiss.

"He's gone at least."

"You would've continued with him here?"

"He would've left once we got vocal enough."

"You can't possibly know that." I whimper as he kneels to spread my legs and slide between them. His hand is gone and is replaced by a wicked, wicked mouth. I groan, digging my fingers into his hair, but his hands are still iron on my hips, keeping me still. His teeth scrape against the hyper sensitive skin and it just feels _so_ good.

I see stars, not the regular blue kind either, and the heat is getting to that _point_-

"Geil Róka! You were _not about to have sex in front of our latest recruit!_" Mizu suddenly yells, slamming the door back open, causing me to yelp is surprise and Geil to clench his jaw, which changes my yelp to a moan halfway through. Mizu snarls. "Could you keep it in check for at least an hour?!?"

I shoot her a pointed look. Geil comes up, much to my displeasure, and glares at her.

"It was an hour, he over stayed. Now, I'm rather _busy_ if you don't mind."

"Yes, I do mind. You're supposed to be doing work. Not trying to pervert young children."

"Psh, it's not like he hasn't done it before. I mean, the brat's what? Sixteen? He's at that age." Mizu seethes.

"You are missing my point."

I thump my head against Geil's chest. "Do you two have to do this now?!?"

Mizu sighs. "He's going to be in your squad."

Geil and I jerk to her just as she closes the door. "What?" I yell just as the door shuts. I return to hitting my head against Geil's chest. He groans.

"You just _had_ to do this in the middle of that." He smirks before kneeling back down, his tongue darts out to lick his lips, making me shiver. Just before he resumes what he started he whispers against my skin…

"Well…you do look so feminine."


	16. Spirit Dancer

**Notes:**

**Fehér Hölgy: "White Lady" in Hungarian, a woman's ghost or spirit that has been betrayed by a loved one (usually a family member or husband) during her life (usually resulting in her death). Accepted as a general bringer of misfortune.**

**Spirit Dancer:**

"Ritualist Nemes, your services are required." A sour-mouthed Sunspear calls from the doorway of our squad's barracks. Delius looks up from his usual spot next to the window in lotus position.

"What services? Because whatever Geil's been telling you _isn't_ true." He snaps, jerking his head at me, sending several strands of beads into clicking motions. I smirk back and the spear glowers at us in obvious distaste.

"Your services as a _Ritualist_ Sir Nemes, as a _Ritualist_." Delius stands up, stretching his back, letting out a satisfied grunt as his bones cracked.

"Whatever for? I can't imagine me being of use when there are perfectly capable mystics in Kamadan." In Delius speak that was "Oh really now? I can't imagine why you would need me when you have your ignorant fakes to carry out your stupid pomp ceremonies to produce useless effects."

The spear grinds his teeth.

"Please follow me." The spear whirls around and stomps out of the barracks, puzzling a few of our soldiers with his departure. Delius shrugs before grabbing his Staff of the Forgotten and following him out of the barracks. I grab my scythe and secure my hood before following him, motioning for Sabrin to take over.

Delius is waiting for me outside, flashing me a quick smile before turning after the spear that was waiting for us a few yards away.

The spear leads us to a marsh to the far north of our squad's patrol area. Several mystics, a noble, and a few dozen spears are waiting there. They all stand to attention and salute as we approach.

"Castellan Róka, we did not expect you to come." I raise a brow, not that they can see.

"Why ever not? It is my husband that you've called out after all." I have a distinct feeling that Delius is rolling his eyes at me but he shoves a few mystics aside to wade waist deep into the water, planting his staff in the shore before moving into the water. The mystics twitter amongst themselves while the spear shift in discomfort, the noble out rightly frowns.

"Ritualist Nemes-"

"_Róka, _Ritualist _Róka_." He interrupts, causing the spears to be taken aback.

"Excuse us?"

"My last name is Róka, spear, I would assume that you would know that by now." He doesn't even turn to acknowledge them as he continues to look around. His hands ghost over the water, causing small ripples to spread out across the surface of the water. He turns around and steps out of the water, completely dry. The spears blink in surprise. He plucks up his staff. "Nightfall." He pushes past the mystics again and begins to walk away.

"Ritualist Róka, where are you going?" The noble snaps, incredulous as Delius waves him off.

"Nothing I can do, wait till sundown." I blink and begin to follow, the cacophony of angry yells erupting as soon as the shock wears off on the crowd behind us. As soon as we are out of earshot I speak.

"Wasn't that a rather quick brush-off?" He shrugs.

"It's true though, it doesn't take a twit to realize that. They'd know that if they'd just study."

"So you'll work on it?" I blink, surprised. He's never expressed interest in helping with spirit control and exorcism with the spears before.

"Of course, but I do have conditions."

"Such as?"

"They'll know at sundown." He stops, pulling on my elbow. "Geil, don't come with me tonight. I'm serious. It's dangerous to dabble with spirits."

"Why not? If there's danger of course I'll come after you, I'll protect you." He shakes his head, sending his beads into a series of clicks.

"Not the kind of danger that you can protect me from. Geil, you're a _dervish_ I don't realize if you know this, but you have something from all the Gods. Spirits just want to rip you to pieces. If this spirit is as bad as I think it is, as angry as I believe it to be, it might just try and kill you if you come tonight."

"Why tonight? I don't care what you say, I'm coming with you, you've never cared before." He shifts.

"I don't want you to see."

"See what?"

He turns away, letting go before walking on. I follow after, tilting my head. "What is it that you don't want me to see dearest?"

"Spirit dancing isn't as beautiful as you seem to think it is Geil. Especially not when it's used to pacify and commune with the angry spirits."

I blink. "You don't want me to see you?" He bites his lip before jerking his head away from mine. I smile. "You know I'm going to come anyway." I grab his hand, pulling him close to my side. "Wherever you go, I'll follow."

* * *

Delius plants his staff off to the side of a large white circle he's drawn. "All of you are going to stay back, no matter what happens, I don't care how much you want to come in this circle. Stay where you are or this spirit will never leave. _Ever_." I settle myself on a rock, resting my scythe across my lap.

"What's going to happen dearest?"

"I'll know when I speak to it. But if I do this, I need you to promise me something." He faces the noble. "Once I finish communing with the spirit I will have one question for you. You must answer it with complete honesty. Whatever I ask, you must answer me." The noble looks upset but nods. "You spears, lay down your arms, you're useless here." I nod at them as they hesitate, then reluctantly let go of their spears and shields. "Mystics, stand back and learn something." I snicker as he jabs a finger at the ruffled mystics.

He stands in the circle, just at the shoreline and assumes position.

As the last strands of sunlight disappear he claps his hands together, causing sparks to set the incense sticks around the circle on fire. He draws his hands apart, slowly, carefully, and a small ball of aquamarine light forms. It blazes, pulses, like a heartbeat and he divides it in two.

It blazes up the sides of his arms; I realize the ash on his skin was moving with the flames. As he moves the sand of the shore ripples, smoothing out, contracting, like a muscle. He slowly spreads his legs, apart, not lifting them, the sand between them unmoving. He moves like a ghost, the ripples follow his hands, not his feet.

The only light is that of the moon, the reflection of the moon in the water, and the wicked green light he holds in his palms. His lips part to show his teeth, and he speaks. It's not really his voice though, it's a strange cacophony of sound that pours from his mouth, and only a small portion of it is his own sound.

He raises his head and arms up before launching into a series of bends and twists that I can't even begin to comprehend. He moves with a strange ethereal grace that he doesn't posses in during the day. During the day he's graceful, he moves quietly and smoothly.

This?

It's as if he's standing still and it's the world that moves. I begin to see it, as the light streaks from his palms and drags around him.

Spirits, pale blue spirits are swiping at him, dragging long skeletal fingers across his body. Large, gaping mouths snap teeth at him and empty wide eyes swerve around him, pushing to see his face.

He continues on.

The clasps the lights together and they form an urn. It glows, sparkling aqua as he swerves it around, alternately raising it up to the moon and sweeping it across the sands.

He releases the urn just as it reaches the zenith of its arc and it shatters onto the ground. Just as the sound of tinkling glass reaches our ears it disappears in a poof of aquamarine light and smoke.

His hands swirl around the smoke, as if molding it before he falls onto his knees, suddenly slamming his hands into the ground. The incense suddenly goes out and everything is still.

Suddenly the incense relights and Delius is standing in the middle of the circle with a somber expression. He places his hands in front of him, and under them pale blue wisps begin to form a body.

First the shoulders, then the torso, legs, neck, arms, and finally the face.

Every inch of the girl's body is covered in cuts and scrapes and gashes. Even as a spirit I can see bruises and blemishes on her young body. Her hair is matted and uneven, one of her scalp is totally skinned off, revealing what would have been, were she alive, raw, bloody skin.

One of her eyes is missing.

Delius grips her shoulders and one of her hands, the fingers were broken, curls in a mock imitation of a point at the noble. The noble recoils in horror. The mystics hiss with fear and repulsion. The spears reach for their weapons, which I gesture for them to leave. Delius would not let harm befall anyone.

"Who is this girl sir? Who is she?" The noble must not have been expecting this. He shakes his head, locking his lips. Delius' eyes glow from underneath their bindings and his beads clatter, charged with energy.

"It is the night, Grenth's power is strongest. Save your prayers," he adds to the mystics, who had been whispering to Dwanya, "in the domain of the shadows and the stars, Grenth's domain, no one can hear them. Grenth loves me, you have forsaken him. This is the work of deceit and trickery, this is caused by early death. Death is _my domain._ I am stronger than you. You've promised to answer me honestly, this is my one question. Who is this girl?" He repeats.

The noble snarls. "She is no one." He slashes the air in front of him.

Delius' eyes glow stronger and the white chalk glows as well, bursts of aquamarine flame contort in mid air, illuminating the ground, casting shadows that seemed to dance.

I grip my scythe so hard my knuckles turn white.

The light illuminates glowing copper blood on the ground. A trail of it, no, not a trail, more like a stream of it, was smeared all over the sand. The smell was nauseating; in fact more than one of the spears whirled around to throw up in the bushes. I, myself, taste the bitter bile in the back of my throat. I swallow it down with much difficulty.

The noble screamed. His hands were covered in the blood. Delius spoke.

"This is a _Fehér Hölgy_, and she has been waiting for you. The reason she's stayed behind is because of you. Now, you can fix this by answering my question with complete honesty, or you can make it worse by lying as you have been. Answer me, _who is this girl?_"

The noble looks torn, but his lips are firmly shut.

Delius sighs.

"Answer him Gods damn you." I snarl. The noble shakes his head.

The sand moves, in footprints and to my horror it's as if whatever has gone on here is being replayed. The sand moves in two sets of footprints, one obviously of the girl's and the other a man's. The footprints struggle with each other before blood is sprayed, and the blood just flows and seems to appear everywhere.

Ghost echoes of screams and yells rip through our ears. Delius seems unaffected and just keeps mouthing his question over and over again.

The water is disturbed and I realize, the moon's reflection does not shine in the water. The water glows a ghastly red, and it bubbles as if someone was being held under.

The noble claps his hands over his ears as the shrieks and moans of the spirits begins to grow closer and closer to him. It's so strong that we can physically see the forms of ghosts and spirits ripping at him with phantom hands.

He throws up his hands and screams.

"She is my daughter!"

There is silence, the red glows and spirit flames are gone. The sand ceases to ripple and move. The girl is silent.

She turns to Delius as he kneels down to her.

"Does that satisfy you? Is this enough?" He asks, concern lacing his voice. She smiles and begins to glow a pale white.

I shield my eyes as the light grows and blink when it is gone.

The girl is whole, and she's young and beautiful. Her hair is restored, her body is healed and her smile is wide.

She speaks but I hear no words.

Delius smiles and brushes a kiss to her forehead and she is gone.

He straightens, pulling his staff up from the ground and sets about picking up the incense as he extinguishes them one by one. The noble's shoulders heave with the force of his bellow.

"By acknowledging her as yours she has been satisfied." His voice is cold when addressing the noble. He turns to me and I can see he is resting heavily on his staff. "Geil, this man is a murderer and conspirator against Istani."

The noble sputters. "Lies! That is not true, you have no proof."

"Arrest him." The spears move in.

"You cannot possibly believe the words of a whore!" I snap.

"He is no whore and you are obviously stupid if you believe that I would doubt him after what I've just seen."

"He is a dark monster!" The mystics mumble in general agreement, but too afraid to actually say anything.

"He, is a _priest_ and you are the monster. He has illuminated the truth of what crime you would never have admitted too. He has dispelled and released a child from angry wandering, something these _mystics_," I sneer the word, jerking my head at the group in the back, "would have tried to appease with more bloodshed." I stand up, walking to Delius' side. "Inform Sabrin of what has happened." I nod to one of the spears who grimly nods back, and salutes before escorting the man away. The mystics, afraid to be near us, rush after.

"That was a good thing you did back there."

"Did that frighten you?" Delius whispers, leaning against me as I guide him to sit down. I wrap my arms around him, rubbing his chilled skin. The light of the moon shines in the water.

"No."

"People are afraid of the dark."

"People should be afraid of people." I retort. "I didn't know you were so bendy."

He snorts. "Really, Geil? I was performing dark magic and all you could think of was how bendy I looked?"

"That was not dark magic love, we've seen dark magic. That isn't it."

"Geil, I was, quite literally, whoring out my _core_ to spirits in exchange for _power_. That has got to be an example of dark magic at its finest."

"Delius, when will you ever see yourself and what you do as it really is?"

"When you stop being cracked in the head?"

"I'm telling you, what you did for that girl, it wasn't bad. Did you not see her smile when you got him to say the truth?"

"Did you not see what else I had to do before that to get to that point?"

"What you did it for though? That was good Delius. You put someone to rest. You exposed the wrongs of a noble whose sins would never have been brought to light without you. Delius, you _care_."

"You have to care when dealing with spirits. You have to let them know someone does. That you see them and hear them and _feel_ for them." He mumbles crawling into my lap. "I'm tired Geil. Did it honestly not frighten you?"

I press a kiss to his forehead.

"I saw nothing frightening Delius. All I saw was a beautiful spirit dancer dancing for the moon."

He shifts, resting his head on my shoulder, mumbling something or other about cracked dervishes. I grin.

"And I remember thinking that said dancer was all _mine._"


	17. Ash

**Notes:**

**Dragon's Blood: **Incense used for love, strength, and courage, also able to increase power of spell work. It appears as bright red as a powder, but turns a deep brown like clotted blood as condensed incense. It is mildly intoxicating and is often called the "red rock opium" by inexperienced opium buyers. In voodoo it can purify negative energy and in medicine it can help heal wounds and stop bleeding. It is also believed to help bind people and tighten promises.

**New mark: **The mark Geil refers to is a Japanese characters that I looked up on google, which translate to his name (beautiful/pretty fox) to _utsukushi i kistune_.

**Ash:**

I love watching Delius reapply his ash marks.

Every few days or so, when the magic holding it to his skin, wears off, he wakes up early (as it is a rather long process) to enchant ashes he keeps prepared and apply it to his skin. He keeps the ashes –they come in all sorts of jars and urns, and I remember asking him what they were ashes of once, he replied that it would be better if I not know…I have yet to ask again- in a dark room of our house, next to porcelain jars of oil from Cantha that he uses on his skin to attach them.

I roll on my side, stretching out across our large, white, bed. I feel the individual bones of my back crack and sigh in relief at the tension. I prop my head on my palm, not bothering to cover myself from our previous night's activities.

Delius mumbles spells over the oil, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a patch of sunlight. He seems to like sitting in the sun an awful lot. Perhaps we should add a sunroom to our house? Somewhere near the library. Yes, somewhere very close to the library.

He's also naked, but really that's not a bad thing. Delius is an incredibly beautiful person, and despite what he may think, exotic for our peoples. He's not plain and no matter how much he may want to be, he quite frankly, does _not_ fit in with us of Istani.

He's got the aristocratic features of a Vabbian, and the pale (for our peoples anyway, I highly doubt he was considered pale back in Cantha, or even on Tyria from what I've seen) skin of a child's doll. He'll never be as tall as most of our spears, nor as heavily built, but he's just the right size for me to wrap myself around at night when I'm way too hot and he's pleasantly cool.

He dips his fingers into the oil and slowly spreads it over his skin, not one single inch of it is left untouched. I lick my lips. He uses slow, circular motions to make sure the oil sets into his skin. I smell the faint scent of Dragon's blood. It may be the slight intoxicating power of the incense but just watching, and not touching (he would get terribly mad and probably electrocute me if I tried) makes me feel a little lightheaded.

The oil and powder is a brilliant red and as he smears it over his skin it turns a deep mahogany, like the color dried blood, before he applies magic and it disappears from view altogether.

He slowly unwraps a jar of ash, sliding the heavy gilded lid off the jar. He picks up a palm full of ash, murmuring prayers over them as they run through his fingers like black sand into the urn. He repeats the process three times, because (as he once told me) all things that come in threes hold power.

He draws a line over his palms and wrists with his finger; one, two, three fingers trace fine lines of swirls and half spoken spells. Up and down this thighs and shins the ash swirls in a hypnotic stream of black. It stands out on his light tan skin, literally like the letters jumping out of a page.

Runes, characters, figures, images, all of them are slowly, but surely traced onto his skin. He then flattens his ash-coated palm and begins to fill in each image. It was like watching a painter paint, or a writer write. He was becoming living art.

Runes of blessings and prayers were twined along the fine bones of his hips and back, scrawling up and around like thick chords of cobras and snakes. My mind flashes forward to me tracing these runes with my fingers as they pulsed with unspoken power under the pads of my fingertips.

Thick, brush-stroke Canthan characters snake up and down his outer legs and arms, thick and bold like faces. I distinctly remember kissing and licking at them, tracing each exotic mark and wondering at their purpose while Delius moaned them under his breath.

Figures and images of the waves and swirls of power the spirits create. He rubs in each in, creating whorls of ash. I swear he enchants them, I can never get enough of tracing each individual swirl, each swirl seems to ebb and flow like the real waves of power within him. Every time he redraws his ash the swirls are different, always changing, never the same.

He then coats himself in electricity and I watch, mesmerized, as the ash seems to sink into his skin, becoming one with it. I will never get tired of watching Delius' magic at work on him.

It seems like only a few minutes, but in actuality the journey of the sun from the boarder land to mid-sky is complete. It shines upon us both brightly. Delius stands up and stretches, groaning as his various joints crack and muscles stretch. He carefully kneels to rewrap the sacred ashes in their fine cloth and he firmly binds the oil jars, setting them to the side to put away later.

He strides over to the bed, running a hand through his long, mahogany hair. He grabs a band from the bedside, quickly braiding it and tying it into a ponytail. He raises a brow at me, as his eyes finally settle and focus in on my face.

"Whatever are you staring at so hard?" I grin, reaching up to pull him onto the bed. He obliges, rolling his eyes and flipping onto his stomach, playing with the ends of his braid. "Please refrain from saying something perverted."

"I'll try to love. But watching you without touching is always something that warrants hard effort." He snorts, flicking my arm. "I love watching you draw your marks." He rolls his eyes again.

"Not as much as you love wearing out their enchantments." We both snicker.

"They lasted longer than usual this time."

"Only because I've been trying extra hard to keep you away from me."

"Not as hard as you used to try."

"I figure that's a pretty moot point now that we're married and all." I smile; I'll never get over that fact that he actually said _yes_ to me all those months ago on that ship.

"Either way, are you making the enchantments stronger or something? Or should I try harder in my attempts to get your ash completely worn out every time?" My personal record for wearing out the enchantments on the ash that held it on his skin and prevented it from smearing was twelve hours. From the morning of our wedding day to that evening. He didn't even have the heart to reapply them for another eight and forty.

"You've just been out a lot this week, remember? Anyway, I will never understand your obsession with trying to wear out the ash enchantments. I think you just like seeing me slave away at my ashes." I pout.

"I didn't mean to be gone so long. And I rather like watching you draw on yourself. It's an enchanting process."

"Sometimes I wonder if your love for words is what makes you love me. You just like seeing the words on something that can kiss back."

"Of course not, not that I'd ever try to kiss a book." I press a kiss to his shoulder blade. "This is a new one." I trace it, wondering if I'm reading it correctly. It was ever so hard to learn Canthan when the scrolls and tomes that came out of the country were limited to very base words. I knew enough to speak pretty fluently, but I knew close to nothing in written verse.

He squirms under my touch. "How did you know?"

"I always notice when something new happens to you. Side-effect of always watching you."

"Stalker pervert." He snorts.

"What's it mean?" I trace the first character, it rather reminded me of a scarab beetle but I knew it would be rather insulting to say that though. The next two are variations of each other, one a little smaller with an extra dash than the other. The final character is a series of downward strokes with little branches coming off them.

He mumbles something into the sheets.

"I can't hear you when you're pressed into the bed, dearest. But I do love you pressed into the bed…and the wall and the bath and the…" He smacks my chest before rolling over onto his side. I press another kiss to his shoulder, laughing a bit. "So? What's it mean?"

"_Utsukushi i kitsune_." I blink, taking a moment to translate that into Istanian, then another to make sure I heard him right. I see the tips of his ears flush a slight red.

"Aw, isn't that sweet." I coo, and he called me sappy for getting _my_ tattoo.

"Shut up." He curls up as I pull him against me, curling myself around him, wincing as he digs a bony elbow into my ribs.

"You should've known that I'd never shut up once I learned what that is." I push his braid aside, nuzzling my face into his neck, pressing a kiss to the image of an eye at the nape.

"You'd think so, but I didn't think you'd find it so quickly, let alone want to _know _what it meant."

"How could you not when I'm always watching you? I want to know everything about you, dearest." He attempts to shrug me off.

"If you're going to be this smug about it then next time I'm not putting it there." He snaps trying to wiggle away as I nip at the still sensitive from application skin.

"That means you'll still put it somewhere." I retort, flipping him over and rolling so that he's on top of me. He drops a kiss to my lips before smirking.

"Bet you wont find it next time." I smirk, licking my lips.

"Be prepared to loose priest, get ready to loose."


End file.
